tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1592153795772280532009-10-13T02:25:43.119-07:00Marcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01839187914422331535noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-159215379577228053.post-55428137367475173242009-07-27T12:39:00.000-07:002009-07-27T13:02:31.389-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lA0Nv_FSfxw/Sm4D72clFLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/6_ltwmZSnKc/s1600-h/collage.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 142px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363228533007389874" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lA0Nv_FSfxw/Sm4D72clFLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/6_ltwmZSnKc/s320/collage.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="center">...un nuovo incontro per ogni incontro perduto!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/159215379577228053-5542813736747517324?l=pasticciegarbugli.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Marcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01839187914422331535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-159215379577228053.post-67112230868140060082009-07-12T04:50:00.000-07:002009-07-12T05:04:03.677-07:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lA0Nv_FSfxw/SlnRGIWCCVI/AAAAAAAAAAk/sVpZTvtyBrE/s1600-h/DSCF0822.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357543134983227730" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lA0Nv_FSfxw/SlnRGIWCCVI/AAAAAAAAAAk/sVpZTvtyBrE/s320/DSCF0822.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><p align="center"><strong></strong></p><p align="center"><strong>E passa il tempo sui nostri giorni,<br /></strong><strong>ci ha visti complici tra fremiti e sorrisi.</strong></p><p align="center"><strong>Segreti riposti ognuno nelle mani dell'altro,<br /></strong><strong>affinche' trovassero pace e "casa".</strong></p><div align="center"><strong>Pensieri mai tradotti in parole<br /></strong><strong>ma letti chiaramente negli sguardi muti.<br /></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Non gridero' infinitamente grazie,<br /></strong><strong>non cerchero' conferme con affanno.<br /></strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>Ma ci saro' sempre a contemplarti vivere..</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>e se il buio ti fara' paura,</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>allunga la tua mano e troverai la mia.</strong> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/159215379577228053-6711223086814006008?l=pasticciegarbugli.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Marcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01839187914422331535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-159215379577228053.post-71058750271420064752009-06-22T13:18:00.001-07:002009-07-12T05:06:38.564-07:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lA0Nv_FSfxw/SlnRyqVTDEI/AAAAAAAAAAs/XAq081lXQdg/s1600-h/Immagine.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357543900021197890" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lA0Nv_FSfxw/SlnRyqVTDEI/AAAAAAAAAAs/XAq081lXQdg/s320/Immagine.JPG" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>...dov'e' finito il Jonathan che non avrei mai sperato di conoscere, quel Jonathan che pensava di prendermi per il culo, il Jonathan che si divertiva alle mie spalle, il Jonathan che mi raccontava un sacco di frottole, il Jonathan che aveva sempre voglia... non per forza di me.. Spero che sia felice ora che ha riconquistato la liberta' che ha sempre avuto!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/159215379577228053-7105875027142006475?l=pasticciegarbugli.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Marcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01839187914422331535noreply@blogger.com0