<?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-4575253735940294476</id><updated>2012-02-16T20:07:35.792-08:00</updated><category term='momentos'/><category term='amigos'/><title type='text'>life has moments hard to describe,</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-3530254993286671487</id><published>2012-01-19T08:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T08:14:21.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Os voy a contar un secreto.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Soyla persona más miedosa del mundo entero. Sin embargo, nunca me faltado lasuerte. Bueno, no en lo aparente. Pero sí en el interior, en lo queverdaderamente importa de todos y cada uno de nosotros. Tener a alguien implicasacrificios, y a menudo sufrimiento. No quiero decir que prefiera estar sola,ni mucho menos. Son gajes del oficio, y es así como deberíamos verlo. Comocuando tienes un trabajo y recibes un salario. Ese salario es su cariño, suatención, &lt;b&gt;sus besos&lt;/b&gt; y, sobre todo, &lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;sus abrazos&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Incluso, si continuamoscomparando, cabría decir que no podría estar en un puesto mejor, o trabajandoen algo que me guste más que él. Porque eso es imposible.&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;A pesar de todo, como ya os hedicho antes, el miedo es imposible de frenar. Todo asusta, todo hace temblar.Un tiempo sin vernos da pavor, y una discusión de media hora llena los ojos delágrimas arrepentidas. Como cuando pierdes ese trabajo, por el que dabas tuvida, por faltar un día, o no hacer bien lo que te habían pedido. Da rabia sentiresa impotencia del “y si”. &lt;i&gt;¿Y si hubiera actuado de tal manera? ¿Y si nohubiera dicho tal cosa?&lt;/i&gt; Pero no puedes cambiar nada, porque el tiempo corre entu contra.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QJgiZWcOrSs/Txg_Z7LDH8I/AAAAAAAAACc/umbrP_pdtIs/s1600/peque.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QJgiZWcOrSs/Txg_Z7LDH8I/AAAAAAAAACc/umbrP_pdtIs/s1600/peque.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Puede que encuentres otrotrabajo, que te pases la vida en el paro o que te vuelvan a contratar en esaempresa. El futuro es incierto, y nosotros (sí, tú y yo), somos losperjudicados.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Podemos, de todas formas,olvidarnos. Y disfrutar de ese salario que recibimos cada día. Porque, queramoso no, gracias a eso podemos seguir adelante. Y vivir.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;Sí, sorprendentemente, esa es la magia &lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;que nos mantiene un poco vivos&lt;/b&gt;&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/4575253735940294476-3530254993286671487?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/3530254993286671487/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2012/01/os-voy-contar-un-secreto.html#comment-form' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/3530254993286671487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/3530254993286671487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2012/01/os-voy-contar-un-secreto.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QJgiZWcOrSs/Txg_Z7LDH8I/AAAAAAAAACc/umbrP_pdtIs/s72-c/peque.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-5511169513132659562</id><published>2012-01-16T03:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T03:37:29.203-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}&lt;/style&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; margin-left: 17.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.85pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Pocas veces todo, tantas veces nada. Esperamos tanto,y recibimos tan poco. Encontramos tantos caminos, y ninguno es el que buscamos.Queremos cantar, y gritamos. Necesitamos huir, y nos quedamos. &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/4575253735940294476-5511169513132659562?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/5511169513132659562/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2012/01/normal-0-21-false-false-false-es-x-none.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/5511169513132659562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/5511169513132659562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2012/01/normal-0-21-false-false-false-es-x-none.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-8803131418751176066</id><published>2011-11-07T16:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T16:20:19.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Y ahora nos damos cuenta de a lo que hemos llegado, de loque nos hemos convertido…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nada&lt;/b&gt; es suficiente, &lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;todo&lt;/span&gt; depende de algo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Times,&amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;,serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;¿Miedo?&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ahíestá. Lo único que necesitamos es no perdernos… sino, será &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;muy difícil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; volver aencontrarnos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-8803131418751176066?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/8803131418751176066/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/11/normal-0-21-false-false-false-es-x-none_07.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/8803131418751176066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/8803131418751176066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/11/normal-0-21-false-false-false-es-x-none_07.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-8556419651804510137</id><published>2011-11-06T08:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T08:25:02.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 36pt; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;Los depresivos no quieren ser felices,quieren ser infelices para confirmar su depresión. Si son felices no estándeprimidos y tienen que salir al mundo a vivir, lo cual puede ser deprimente.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 36pt; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;-Closer.&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/4575253735940294476-8556419651804510137?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/8556419651804510137/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/11/normal-0-21-false-false-false-es-x-none.html#comment-form' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/8556419651804510137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/8556419651804510137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/11/normal-0-21-false-false-false-es-x-none.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-7456676605213475039</id><published>2011-11-02T15:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T15:32:17.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i42.tinypic.com/2wflnau.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sí. Que sí, que quiero estar con &lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;él&lt;/span&gt;. Que me gusta su &lt;b&gt;mirada&lt;/b&gt;, pero más cuando me mira a mí. Que me gusta cuando&lt;b&gt; sonríe&lt;/b&gt;, pero más cuando yo he conseguido que lo haga. Que me gusta escucharle&lt;b&gt; reír&lt;/b&gt;, pero más cuando es a causa de mis cosquillas. Esas cosquillas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i42.tinypic.com/2wflnau.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://i42.tinypic.com/2wflnau.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Que también pueden ser palabras. Que me encanta escuchar &lt;b&gt;su voz,&lt;/b&gt; pero más cuando me habla a mí. Y me cuenta cosas, cosas que me encantan. Como &lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;sus abrazos&lt;/span&gt;, como sus &lt;b&gt;besos&lt;/b&gt; y como sus manos. Que acarician, que tocan, que me hacen sentir &lt;i&gt;su cuerpo&lt;/i&gt; más cerca. Porque sí, quiero estar con él. Y cuanto más cerca estamos, más cerca le tengo.&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/4575253735940294476-7456676605213475039?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/7456676605213475039/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/11/si.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/7456676605213475039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/7456676605213475039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/11/si.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://i42.tinypic.com/2wflnau_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-4631302256626922363</id><published>2011-11-01T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T14:32:16.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Y aquí seguimos. Mirándonos a los ojos y entendiéndonos sin palabras. &lt;b&gt;Sonriendo&lt;/b&gt; cada vez que nos encontramos y llorando cada vez que no estamos juntos. Escuchando &lt;b&gt;música&lt;/b&gt; y emocionándonos con un simple sonido de guitarra. Abrazados a solas y de la mano por la calle. Miles de &lt;b&gt;besos&lt;/b&gt; durante el día y millones por la noche. Y pasa el tiempo, y nada cambia. Y si lo hace, es a mejor. Parece ser que estamos &lt;b&gt;predestinados&lt;/b&gt; a estar juntos. Parece que nos han sacado de un libro del mejor escritor de novelas románticas del mundo. Pero, eso sí, de las que siempre acaban bien.&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/4575253735940294476-4631302256626922363?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/4631302256626922363/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/11/y-aqui-seguimos.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/4631302256626922363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/4631302256626922363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/11/y-aqui-seguimos.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-3045928899211166885</id><published>2011-10-31T07:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T07:03:13.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://3.gvt0.com/vi/c4-7QPnBeUc/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/c4-7QPnBeUc&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266"  src="http://www.youtube.com/v/c4-7QPnBeUc&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 17.85pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0cm;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; margin-left: 17.85pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0cm;"&gt;Suena una canción. Es nueva, yo nunca lahabía escuchado. Pero me muero de ganas de hacerlo. Es &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;ella&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. No la conozco,nunca he hablado con ella. ¿Y? Tampoco lo veo necesario. Sé lo que me importa,y es &lt;b&gt;su música&lt;/b&gt;. Su manera de inspirar con las letras de sus canciones, sucapacidad de transmitirme todo lo que ha vivido y hacerme sentir identificada.Te mentiría si dijera que no quiero darle un abrazo, decirle todo lo que meimporta o emocionarme en un concierto suyo. Pero hay cosas improbables ennuestro mundo, y de momento me conformo escuchando su música. Como la que estásonando ahora, que es nueva, nunca la había escuchado, &lt;i&gt;pero ya me estáemocionando.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-3045928899211166885?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/3045928899211166885/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/10/normal-0-21-false-false-false-es-x-none.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/3045928899211166885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/3045928899211166885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/10/normal-0-21-false-false-false-es-x-none.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-5354815009832729313</id><published>2011-10-31T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T05:37:09.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; margin-left: 17.85pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 17.85pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;Un día más en &lt;i&gt;este mundo&lt;/i&gt;. Este mundo en elque &lt;b&gt;te juzgan&lt;/b&gt; por cómo vas vestido, por con quien sales, por cómo hablas, o,simplemente, por tu forma de andar. Este mundo&lt;b&gt; injusto&lt;/b&gt;, en el cual hay que serperfecto o pretenderlo para que la gente te acepte. Este mundo, lleno depersonas que ponen &lt;b&gt;etiquetas&lt;/b&gt; a los demás tan solo con saber la música queescuchan, o su color preferido. Este mundo, &lt;u&gt;creado y odiado&lt;/u&gt; por nosotrosmismos. Este mundo, este mundo, este mundo. ¿Por qué no podemos darle a “reset”y crear uno nuevo? Sé de alguien que lo agradecería.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i44.tinypic.com/35i7iwn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://i44.tinypic.com/35i7iwn.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/4575253735940294476-5354815009832729313?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/5354815009832729313/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/10/un-dia-mas-en-este-mundo.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/5354815009832729313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/5354815009832729313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/10/un-dia-mas-en-este-mundo.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://i44.tinypic.com/35i7iwn_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-6556597592959675659</id><published>2011-10-31T04:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T04:26:12.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i39.tinypic.com/34y9x0x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://i39.tinypic.com/34y9x0x.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="_lines "&gt;&lt;span class="_string "&gt;En  el momento menos esperado te das cuenta de que conoces a una persona  que ha vivido tu propia historia. Las palabras que salen de su boca te  hacen sentirte completamente identificada. Sus miedos, son los tuyos.  Sus lágrimas las sientes caer por tus mejillas. Esperas ansiosa para  volver a hablar con ella y darle las gracias por darte la oportunidad de  sentirte, por primera vez, completamente comprendida. Y te ayuda, y se  preocupa por ti, y tú por ella. Porque solas no podemos conseguir gran  cosa, pero estar juntas en esto nos hace ser cada día un poco más  fuertes.&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/4575253735940294476-6556597592959675659?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/6556597592959675659/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/10/en-el-momento-menos-esperado-te-das.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/6556597592959675659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/6556597592959675659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/10/en-el-momento-menos-esperado-te-das.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://i39.tinypic.com/34y9x0x_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-9047517524810147429</id><published>2011-01-12T14:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T04:09:01.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;b&gt;Porque quien te da la puñalada una vez, te la da muchas veces más.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-9047517524810147429?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/9047517524810147429/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/porque-quien-te-da-la-punalada-una-vez.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/9047517524810147429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/9047517524810147429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/porque-quien-te-da-la-punalada-una-vez.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-1728348643830740820</id><published>2011-01-11T14:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T14:51:12.942-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;"&gt;Y la gente habla, y sigue hablando... sin saber muy bien de qué ni por qué. Creen controlar la situación, pero no. Lo intentan. O bueno... puede que ni siquiera eso. Lo único que sé, es que si todo se va a la mierda, será gracias a ellos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-1728348643830740820?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/1728348643830740820/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/y-la-gente-habla-y-sigue-hablando.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/1728348643830740820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/1728348643830740820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/y-la-gente-habla-y-sigue-hablando.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-5844075550597503647</id><published>2011-01-10T10:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T10:28:20.978-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN8D1w20AO8/TStPl1aL-uI/AAAAAAAAABs/5jfUEKTMJks/s1600/20.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 361px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 203px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560625676329679586" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN8D1w20AO8/TStPl1aL-uI/AAAAAAAAABs/5jfUEKTMJks/s400/20.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Y llega el momento en el que te das cuenta de quienes han estado ahí siempre, y siempre lo van a estar. De que les necesitas, de que quieres estar con ellos cada día. Porque con ellos has pasado los mejores momentos de tu vida. Porque con ellos has improvisado planes que resultaron ser mejores que los exactamente cuadriculados. Y parece ser que estamos locos, muy locos. Pero no. Sabemos divertirnos. Y eso es todo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&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/4575253735940294476-5844075550597503647?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/5844075550597503647/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/y-llega-el-momento-en-el-que-te-das.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/5844075550597503647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/5844075550597503647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/y-llega-el-momento-en-el-que-te-das.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EN8D1w20AO8/TStPl1aL-uI/AAAAAAAAABs/5jfUEKTMJks/s72-c/20.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-1713058817269717330</id><published>2011-01-09T12:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T12:31:55.334-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;"&gt;Una canción. Para alguien puede ser una simple y solitaria canción. Pero para mí… para mí esa canción… puede ser &lt;strong&gt;un mundo.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM4s56-ChoY"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM4s56-ChoY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-1713058817269717330?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/1713058817269717330/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/youtubehttpwww.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/1713058817269717330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/1713058817269717330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/youtubehttpwww.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-3899171758402667536</id><published>2011-01-09T11:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-09T11:45:34.342-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN8D1w20AO8/TSoQTCJmtDI/AAAAAAAAABc/cGNATR_sUC4/s1600/73.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 232px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 155px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560274609123013682" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN8D1w20AO8/TSoQTCJmtDI/AAAAAAAAABc/cGNATR_sUC4/s200/73.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;-Bob Marley&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-3899171758402667536?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/3899171758402667536/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/you-may-not-be-her-first-her-last-or.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/3899171758402667536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/3899171758402667536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/you-may-not-be-her-first-her-last-or.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EN8D1w20AO8/TSoQTCJmtDI/AAAAAAAAABc/cGNATR_sUC4/s72-c/73.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-7600526507995785579</id><published>2011-01-08T19:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T20:11:52.843-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Cada día una milésima más. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Esta historia crece, se hace mayor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Muchas veces &lt;strong&gt;no queremos crecer&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Otras, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;queremos crecer rápido&lt;/span&gt;, muy&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; rápido&lt;/span&gt;… poder hacer cosas que ahora mismo no somos capaces de realizar. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;Pero, ¿y qué? Ahora &lt;em&gt;se pueden hacer otras&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Y cada día, un poco más.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hasta conseguirlo todo.&lt;/strong&gt; Pero sin poder volver atrás. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Aunque, ¿de verdad queremos volver?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 199px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560033944965737410" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN8D1w20AO8/TSk1aiTL68I/AAAAAAAAABU/BX3vqkX1yq8/s200/19.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-7600526507995785579?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/7600526507995785579/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/cada-dia-una-milesima-mas.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/7600526507995785579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/7600526507995785579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/cada-dia-una-milesima-mas.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EN8D1w20AO8/TSk1aiTL68I/AAAAAAAAABU/BX3vqkX1yq8/s72-c/19.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-2288229992383936250</id><published>2011-01-08T19:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T19:55:49.014-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Esta vez</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Esta vez nos dejaremos llevar. Esta vez vamos a disfrutar. Esta vez olvidaremos quiénes somos y dónde estamos. Esta vez reiremos. Esta vez diremos todo lo que tengamos que decir. Esta vez vamos a ver las estrellas solo por el hecho de verlas. Esta vez, esta vez, esta vez… haremos locuras. &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/4575253735940294476-2288229992383936250?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/2288229992383936250/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/esta-vez.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/2288229992383936250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/2288229992383936250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2011/01/esta-vez.html' title='Esta vez'/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-4359045050118582453</id><published>2010-12-11T08:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T08:46:59.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>smile</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i56.tinypic.com/14npteo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 311px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 504px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://i56.tinypic.com/14npteo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;La sonrisa es el más bello accesorio que uno puede usar.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-4359045050118582453?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/4359045050118582453/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/12/la-sonrisa-es-el-mas-bello-accesorio.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/4359045050118582453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/4359045050118582453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/12/la-sonrisa-es-el-mas-bello-accesorio.html' title='smile'/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://i56.tinypic.com/14npteo_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-247274638649665873</id><published>2010-05-18T10:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-18T10:14:50.255-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2 años.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i45.tinypic.com/t89lk2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 184px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://i45.tinypic.com/t89lk2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hace dos años de esta foto.&lt;br /&gt;Hace dos años de ese abrazo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hace dos años empezó esta aventura.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porque los &lt;strong&gt;MORENO&lt;/strong&gt;, molamos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-247274638649665873?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/247274638649665873/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/05/2-anos.html#comment-form' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/247274638649665873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/247274638649665873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/05/2-anos.html' title='2 años.'/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://i45.tinypic.com/t89lk2_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-2500933509321382949</id><published>2010-05-17T12:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T12:33:06.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>:)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i42.tinypic.com/71l0tk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 311px;" src="http://i42.tinypic.com/71l0tk.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y se dio cuenta de que la vida no era eso, la vida es caer y levantarse, y volverse a caer y volver a levantarse; la vida es alegrarte los viernes y joderte los lunes, y abrazarte a quien te abrace y a quien no te abrace pues no te abrazas y punto, y no pasa nada.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-2500933509321382949?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/2500933509321382949/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/2500933509321382949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/2500933509321382949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/05/blog-post.html' title=':)'/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://i42.tinypic.com/71l0tk_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-4788183678161221123</id><published>2010-05-17T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T11:33:45.939-07:00</updated><title type='text'>believing in dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i42.tinypic.com/2wp1q8l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://i42.tinypic.com/2wp1q8l.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;Porque el único momento en el que somos libres es cuando soñamos, y tú lo sabes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-4788183678161221123?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/4788183678161221123/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/05/believing-in-dreams.html#comment-form' title='1 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/4788183678161221123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/4788183678161221123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/05/believing-in-dreams.html' title='believing in dreams'/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://i42.tinypic.com/2wp1q8l_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-6730132571148375038</id><published>2010-05-17T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T11:23:46.948-07:00</updated><title type='text'>11.04.10</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i40.tinypic.com/8xt0gj.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 260px;" src="http://i40.tinypic.com/8xt0gj.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;─ Estaba coleccionando un momento.&lt;br /&gt;─ ¿A qué te refieres?&lt;br /&gt;─ Colecciono momentos, busco detalles que tengan algo especial y trato de concentrarme en ellos.&lt;br /&gt;─ Yo creo que la vida es terrible, pero hay momentos hermosos que valen la pena, y yo los colecciono para intentar ser un poco más feliz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te quiero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-6730132571148375038?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/6730132571148375038/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/05/110410.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/6730132571148375038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/6730132571148375038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/05/110410.html' title='11.04.10'/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://i40.tinypic.com/8xt0gj_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4575253735940294476.post-457003615037447193</id><published>2010-05-16T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T13:41:59.173-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amigos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='momentos'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i40.tinypic.com/14wzkvm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 308px;" src="http://i40.tinypic.com/14wzkvm.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"La vida no se mide en minutos, se mide en momentos"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4575253735940294476-457003615037447193?l=momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/feeds/457003615037447193/comments/default' title='Enviar comentarios'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/05/la-vida-no-se-mide-en-minutos-se-mide.html#comment-form' title='0 comentarios'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/457003615037447193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4575253735940294476/posts/default/457003615037447193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://momentshardtodescribe.blogspot.com/2010/05/la-vida-no-se-mide-en-minutos-se-mide.html' title=''/><author><name>Bea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255499503045524845</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://i40.tinypic.com/14wzkvm_th.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
