<?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-18271628</id><updated>2011-11-28T03:00:20.946+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Poizan's blog</title><subtitle type='html'>Doar ganduri imprastiate de ale mele.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>117</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-1450956560690365073</id><published>2011-09-14T20:46:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T21:26:23.837+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Salate</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;Prima.&lt;br /&gt;Salata de fasole rosie cu avocado.&lt;br /&gt;Se ia o cutie de fasole rosie (conserva,evident), un avocado,o ceapa rosie, si doua rosii. Fasolea, cu avocado taiat bucatele, ceapa fidelute si rosiile feliute, se amesteca, se toarna o picatura de ulei (sau nu,depinde cat de uleioase sunt fasolele), se pune sare,piper si e gata.&lt;br /&gt;Desi suna putin cam ciudata combinatia (si eu am fost sceptica la inceput), e ceva deosebit si surprinzator de gustos.&lt;br /&gt;Pret: conserva 2 lei, avocado 5.5 lei (sau mai ieftin,sau mai scump,depinde de sezon), ceapa 0.5 lei si rosii 1 leu. Total 9 lei.&lt;br /&gt;Pofta buna :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-1450956560690365073?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/1450956560690365073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=1450956560690365073' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1450956560690365073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1450956560690365073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2011/09/salate.html' title='Salate'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-1025344563439453214</id><published>2011-09-13T21:59:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T22:16:34.967+03:00</updated><title type='text'>A fost odata...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;...o tipa. Care in oracolul ei a scris cat de bine s-a simtit cu Dan Bittman. Pentru o noapte.&lt;br /&gt;Bineinteles asta s-a intamplat multi ani in urma, pe vremea cand Dan arata sexy. Pe vremea cand si eu credeam ca este sexy si imi puteam imagina cu usurinta o scena fierbine, la care contribuia atat corpul cat si vocea lui.&lt;br /&gt;Si astfel mi-am adus aminte de fantezii trecute. Si mi-a venit un chef nebun de a face o indiscretie, de a pune in practica o fantezie interzisa cu cineva interzis. Stii senzatia? cand iti doresti ceva atat de mult, incat chiar daca realitatea e cruda, ramai cu satisfactia ca ai avut ce ti-ai dorit.&lt;br /&gt;Momentan, poftim o fantezie (poza+&lt;a href="http://socialitelife.com/adam-levine-nude-for-cosmo-uk-01-2011/adam-levine-nude-cosmo-01062011-01"&gt;link )&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A_IywkZ5S7g/Tm-rR75kdrI/AAAAAAAAAYs/D4P3Ui9HRnk/s1600/adam-levine-nude-cosmo-01062011-01-430x647.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A_IywkZ5S7g/Tm-rR75kdrI/AAAAAAAAAYs/D4P3Ui9HRnk/s320/adam-levine-nude-cosmo-01062011-01-430x647.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651924381998544562" 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/18271628-1025344563439453214?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/1025344563439453214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=1025344563439453214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1025344563439453214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1025344563439453214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2011/09/fost-odata.html' title='A fost odata...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A_IywkZ5S7g/Tm-rR75kdrI/AAAAAAAAAYs/D4P3Ui9HRnk/s72-c/adam-levine-nude-cosmo-01062011-01-430x647.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8358451709458348443</id><published>2010-08-01T10:37:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T10:44:46.665+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A mai trecut o luna si nu stiu cum,unde si cand.&lt;br /&gt;Imi imaginam in fiecare seara ce o sa scriu, cu ochii mintii vedeam randurile cum se astern sub degetele mele pe tastatura. Imi formulam idei, plan complet de abordare a problemei, fraze mestesugit intoarse din condei. Dar dimineata, odata cu razele soarelui, uitam.&lt;br /&gt;Ce poti sa mai scrii cand viata iti ocupa tot timpul?&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandeam de asemenea la WoW. Imi lipseste enorm timpul petrecut "acolo", in lumea mea de rogue. Imi lipsesc anumite discutii, anumite senzatii,anumite persoane. Pare ciudat ca pentru o fiinta atat de bine inradacinata ca mine, sa imi lipseasca o lume a iluziilor. Pentru o imaginatie atat de bogata ca a mea, sa imi lipseasca imaginatia altora. Ma rog, pot spune ca a inlocuit, la vremea respectiva, o "lipsa" din viata mea. Dar acum? Acum tot ce imi lipseste este timpul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-8358451709458348443?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/8358451709458348443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=8358451709458348443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8358451709458348443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8358451709458348443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2010/08/mai-trecut-o-luna-si-nu-stiu-cumunde-si.html' title=''/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8458270106161141290</id><published>2010-07-02T21:06:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T21:11:12.590+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Schimbari</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Schimbari au aparut in viata mea. Schimbari in bine,in rau,dar ce mi-au captat atentia atat incat am uitat sa scriu. Am uitat sa ma vaiet, sa imi plang de mila,sa plang de mila altora, sa ma zbat, sa ma obosesc luptandu-ma cu litere,cuvinte,fraze. A trecut vremea, ma trec si eu ca doar nu sunt nemuritoare, dar zilele zboara usor, ca zborul unui fluture. Orele trec fara sa le simt greutatea si uneori mi se pare ca visez.&lt;br /&gt;Dar nu visez, sunt treaza, poate mai constienta ca oricand de ce pot,de ce vreau. Sa va mai spun ce s-a intamplat in atatea luni? Nu, mai bine va las imaginatia libera, alegeti voi ce ati fi vrut sa traiesc. Va las sa va bateti capul , sa faceti planurile si sa le rulati prin ochii mintii.&lt;br /&gt;Va pup.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-8458270106161141290?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/8458270106161141290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=8458270106161141290' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8458270106161141290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8458270106161141290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2010/07/schimbari.html' title='Schimbari'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-5632163083947620697</id><published>2009-10-26T21:34:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T21:54:07.057+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Din nou...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Iesi de la servici (cat de devreme!) si isi puse castile in urechi. Statu o clipa in cumpana daca sa mearga pe jos, sau sa ia un autobuz...dar nevoia de liniste a facut-o sa mearga pe jos.&lt;br /&gt;Contrar obiceiului nu a dat drumul la muzica,in casti nu urla nici un solo de chitara...&lt;br /&gt;Mergea dreapta, desi se simtea infranta. Tinea capul sus si spatele drept privind fix inainte, ca omul care stie unde trebuie sa ajunga si ce trebuie sa faca. Dar in ochii ei nu se putea citi decat negura deziluziei.&lt;br /&gt;Nu percepea nimic din jurul ei. Sunete, culori, oameni toate apareau si se stingeau, fara a trece prin filtrul mintii. Auzea pasii ei obositi, auzea autobuze, motoare, frane, fosnet de vant, frunze cazute, glasuri de oameni, dar nimic nu o peturba din ganduri.&lt;br /&gt;Se obisnuise deja cu barbatii din viata ei. Se obisnuise sa nu inteleaga cum decurg lucrurile, sa nu inteleaga ce vor de la ea si daca e bine sa oferi sau nu. Dar totusi... ii parea rau. Cum a intrebat-o o prietena, dupa ce i-a spus ca n-a facut nimic: "ei si? ce ai castigat?" . Nu stia ce a castigat, credea ca e vorba de respect fata de sine, poate putina mandrie, poate putina ambitie... dar simtea un gust amar, o victorie prea putin importanta.&lt;br /&gt;Ii ramasese mirosul lui in nari iar cand il simtea la vreun barbat, tresarea. "Dar nu pe teritoriul meu"  se gandea ea ,  "nu aici unde eu traiesc zilnic, sa nu pot scapa de imaginea ta. Nu la mine &lt;acasa&gt; unde la fiecare colt sa dau de tine. Nu in orasul meu, sa ajung sa ii urasc parcurile sau oamenii. Oare intelegi? " .&lt;br /&gt;Stia ca n-ar intelege. Ca nu vede astfel lucrurile, stia ca o considera ipocrita si egoista. Dar totusi ar fi vrut... de fapt l-ar fi vrut. Nu aici, la el acolo, s-ar fi dus daca i-ar da macar un semn. Stia ca o relatie cu el nu va merge niciodata...ea incapatanata, el si mai si. Pardon, hotarat. Stia ca nu va exista mai mult decat o relatie fizica (daca va exista) , tocmai de aceea l-a refuzat. Nu acasa, unde se poate indragosti si suferi. Nu unde e cel mai vulnerabila. La el, departe, cand se urca in tren sa stie pentru ce se urca.Pentru o relatie fizica. Sa constientizeze distanta si imposibilitatea existentiei unei relatii de alt tip. Sa poata reflecta pe tot drumul, sa fie hotarata sa se simta bine, si sa lase in urma regretele cand s-ar intoarce acasa .&lt;br /&gt;A oftat in timp ce urca scarile spre apartament. A privit inca o data cu tristete la strada si apoi usa s-a inchis in urma ei si in urma visurilor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/acasa&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-5632163083947620697?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/5632163083947620697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=5632163083947620697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5632163083947620697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5632163083947620697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2009/10/iesi-de-la-servici-cat-de-devreme-si.html' title='Din nou...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-5130935081495738020</id><published>2009-07-22T20:43:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T22:44:15.146+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Doamna Bovary</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Citea si din ce in ce mai mult i se parea ca se aseamana cu doamna Bovary... madame Bovary. Aceeasi mediocritate o scotea din sarite, aceeasi falsa cumintenie si fidelitate. Cand gandul ar putea sa ii zboare atat de usor la C. ... Stia ca nimic nu o opreste din a-l insela pe A., nici respectul, nici dragostea, doar proasta ei impresie ca are ceva de demonstrat.&lt;br /&gt;Nu-l iubea pe A. Poate, la inceput, a crezut, la fel ca madame, ca asa trebuie sa fie dragostea. Si coconii viselor se desfaceau, iar visele isi luau zborul cu frumoase aripi de fluture. Dar fluturele traieste doar o zi. Iar visele au trecut, si-a dat seama ca romantismul a fost doar in imaginatia ei, iar banalitatea a muscat-o dureros de obraz. O plictiseste aceleasi vorbe rostite la telefon, aceleasi locuri de plimbat, aceleasi gesturi, acelasi sex. Da, pana si sexul devenise plictisitor.&lt;br /&gt; Si apoi a fost B. Dupa atata mediocritate, a parut a fi cavalerul pe cal alb. Sau gri metalizat. Pentru ca era  o gura de aer pentru ea, un om cu care putea vorbi... oh, cat ii lipsisera aceste conversatii, acest schimb de idei care ii dadeau impresia ca totusi se poate. A crezut ca s-a indragostit, a suferit cand B. a plecat. Dar de fapt ea se indragostise doar de senzatia in sine, nu de persoana.&lt;br /&gt;Si mai e si C. Locofurnizor. Care ar putea deveni oricand amantul ei, doar pentru o variatie. Dar nu e nici o scanteie, iar ea stie ca, daca ar accepta, s-ar injosi. Sau de fapt constiinta nu ar mai fi amagita cu iluzia unei iubiri.&lt;br /&gt;Isi doreste inca acel cavaler. Plimbari sub clar de luna, dragoste pe malul marii in apus de soare, inghetata mancata la un picnic sub un soare arzator de vara, atingerile ce sa ii infioare corpul...&lt;br /&gt;Iar ea a inchis cartea, cu un oftat.&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/18271628-5130935081495738020?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/5130935081495738020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=5130935081495738020' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5130935081495738020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5130935081495738020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2009/07/doamna-bovary.html' title='Doamna Bovary'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-1103567113795697979</id><published>2009-06-17T19:06:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T21:33:45.420+02:00</updated><title type='text'>El si ea, sau ea si el(3)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bwu7ixmQk0c&amp;amp;feature=fvst"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bwu7ixmQk0c&amp;amp;feature=fvst&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am simtit-o ca se incordeaza, concentrandu-si atentia catre pahar. Il sucea si il invartea, iar tacerea se lasa grea intre noi,de o puteai taia cu cutitul. I-am zambit stramb, cu timiditate chiar. Eu? Timid? De cand? Si mai ales de ce ea?&lt;br /&gt;-Hai sa mergem la o plimbare, i-am propus, iar ea a dat scurt din cap a aprobare.&lt;br /&gt;Am lasat-o sa iasa si am privit-o din spate. Cu rucsacul in spate semana cu un carabus. S-a intors brusc, surprinzandu-mi privirea amuzata. S-a uitat urat la mine, dar n-a zis nimic. Miram-as, nu pare genul care sa taca pur si simplu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ne-am tarait picioarele pana la parcul ce se afla in apropiere. Ciudat cum se brodeste viata, ciudat cum crasmele se afla langa parcuri. In fine. S-a oprit brusc langa un copac si intorcandu-se catre mine m-a intrebat cu ton rastit:&lt;br /&gt;-Bun, si acum?!&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiam ce sa ii raspund... am intins mana si i-am atins usor obrazul, ea tresarind partial speriata partial bucuroasa de gestul meu. Am mangaiat-o scolareste pe par si i-am luat fata in maini. Pentru o secunda am crezut ca a uitat sa respire. Iar cand buzele noastre s-au intalnit, a lasat aerul sa iasa din plamani, intr-un oftat prelung.&lt;br /&gt;Cat despre mine... nu mai tin minte aproape nimic dupa acel moment. Doar un clar de luna si un bilet lasat pe perna,in dimineata urmatoare. O umbra de parfum si o dulce durere in suflet.&lt;br /&gt;Bodega s-a daramat, parcul a devenit zona rezidentiala, dar poate totusi... inca o data de-as mai intalni-o...&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/18271628-1103567113795697979?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/1103567113795697979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=1103567113795697979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1103567113795697979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1103567113795697979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2009/06/el-si-ea-sau-ea-si-el3.html' title='El si ea, sau ea si el(3)'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-6865333611048665137</id><published>2009-06-12T17:59:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T12:21:53.003+02:00</updated><title type='text'>El si ea, sau ea si el(2)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5lEIdpXSac"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5lEIdpXSac&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Ma uit la el si tot nu stiu de unde sa il iau. La naiba, mai conteaza?&lt;br /&gt;Mi-a oferit o tigara. Stiam ca nu-mi trebuie, nu fumez de obicei, dar am luat-o. Mi-am aprins-o, tragand cu sete din ea, iar efectul s-a simtit instantaneu. Fumul mi-a impaienjenit ochii iar mintea a ramas ametita pentru o secunda. M-a simtit si a ras incetisor.&lt;br /&gt;- Ce, se cunoaste asa tare? am intrebat.&lt;br /&gt;- Da, dar nu-i rau deloc. Fumezi cu patima, nu din obisnuinta. Cum se simte? intreba el, ca un fumator invechit cum se cunoastea ca este.&lt;br /&gt;- Ca mirosul marii, iarna. Imbatator, dar te ustura plamanii. Si totusi nu te poti abtine.&lt;br /&gt;- Romantica, eh? surase el,ridicand o spranceana la tricoul meu cu "Sex,drugs &amp;amp; rock 'n roll".&lt;br /&gt;-N-am stiut cu ce altceva sa o compar. In ciuda tricoului, sunt o fata cuminte. Si in ciuda a ce beau si in ciuda a ce ascult.&lt;br /&gt;-Stiu, mi-a raspuns, iar ochii lui m-au sfredelit ca doi carbuni, pana in adancul sufletului. Ma pierd, o simt, ma cucereste si o simte si el.&lt;br /&gt;-Dar tu? Nu ma pot abtine sa nu iti observ saiba de pe deget.&lt;br /&gt;-Sa imi observi ce? s-a mirat el, privind spre maini...Ah :D Si?&lt;br /&gt;Intrebarile astea ma scot din sarite.Cum adica si??&lt;br /&gt;-Pai si, ce cauti aici? Bei, fumezi si sotia te asteapta dragule.&lt;br /&gt;A izbucnit in ras, facandu-ma sa ma simt ca o scolarita ce amuza profesorul cu naivitatea raspunsului. "Fir'ai tu sa fii, te-as bate ca pe hotii de cai".&lt;br /&gt;-M-ai bate daca ai putea, nu-i asa? a spus el amuzat. Te citesc, nu-ti feri privirea, nu e chiar atat de rau.&lt;br /&gt;- Nu stiu ce cauti la masa mea totusi, atata tot.&lt;br /&gt;- Nu ti-am spus? Simt ca te cunosc, ca un corp pe care l-ai avut si ii stii toate cicatricile. Ca o minte ce ai cunoscut-o si ii stii toate ascunzisurile si temerile. Ca pe o mana pe care ai tinut-o atat de mult, incat ii stii toate liniile.&lt;br /&gt;"Ei vraja marii. A iesit la agatat, sa franga inimi, daca ii pica e bine,daca nu macar bea o bere"&lt;br /&gt;-Nu te uita asa urat la mine, ca nu ma sperii , se hlizi el cu gura pana la urechi. Hai, te rog... a mai adaugat,privindu-ma intens.&lt;br /&gt;- Mi se pare ca discutia nostra are cam multi de nu.. si am tacut. A tacut si el.&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/18271628-6865333611048665137?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/6865333611048665137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=6865333611048665137' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6865333611048665137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6865333611048665137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2009/06/el-si-ea-sau-ea-si-el2.html' title='El si ea, sau ea si el(2)'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8714831480419260821</id><published>2009-06-12T15:51:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T17:57:49.927+03:00</updated><title type='text'>El si ea, sau ea si el(1)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYhF0CEsB4Q&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYhF0CEsB4Q&amp;amp;feature=related  - welcome to the jungle&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luna arunca cateva fasii de lumina de dupa un nor, peste orasul ce nu doarme niciodata. Diverse specimene misunau in cautare de prazi. De prazi usoare, caci jungla orasului se bazeaza pe aceleasi principii ca cea in care lipseste betonul.&lt;br /&gt;Isi sprijinea spatele de bara de metal din autobuz iar piciorul batea tactul muzicii din casti. Se simtea stapana pe ea, queen of the world, nu avea grija nimanui si nimeni nu avea grija ei. Isi plimba limba peste buzele uscate si isi dadu seama ca ii lipsea ceva.&lt;br /&gt;Se opri in prima statie, cautand un bar mai putin bomba. Se furisa intr-un colt, intr-o bodega, lume putina, si de calitate medie. Nici cocalarii nu erau, dar nici mosnegii libidinosi. Privi cu speranta in meniu si zambi cu multumire cand vazu ca au bloody mary. Si-a lasat o casca in ureche, i-a facut un semn discret chelnerului, a cerut, a primit. Se relaxa pe canapea, ametindu-si papilele cu gustul de suc de rosii, indoit cu votca. Iar gandurile, ametite si ele se izbeau incetisor unele de altele, facand'o sa aiba un zambet stramb.&lt;br /&gt;Din reverie a trezit-o vocea lui.&lt;br /&gt;-Se poate?&lt;br /&gt;Si-a aruncat o clipa ochii asupra lui si a raspuns sec: Nu.&lt;br /&gt;Dar el s-a asezat,iar ea i-a aruncat un suras dispretuitor intr-un colt de buza. "Just go away" a gandit ea, uitandu-se pe pereti. Calm el si-a comandat o bere. A asteptat in tacere sa ii fie adusa. Apoi,cand a venit, a baut cu sete din sticla.&lt;br /&gt;Ea a clipit des, vazand aceeasi sete ca a ei. Aceeasi pofta. Aceeasi dorinta de a stinge un dor.&lt;br /&gt;-Felix, s-a recomandat, intinzand mana catre ea.&lt;br /&gt;-Atunci eu sunt Otilia, a ras incetisor ea, cuprinzand mana lui si strangand-o.&lt;br /&gt;-Incantat. Inca un rand? iar ea a dat incet din cap. Isi sorbeau bauturile, studiindu-se unul pe celalalt. S-a uitat la el pe deasupra ochelarilor: era inalt,saten,ochi caprui, un pic mai frumos ca dracu'. Nimic extraordinar. Doar luminita jucausa din coltul ochilor il dadeau de gol. "Got'cha" isi zise ea, oprindu-si telefonul din cantat.&lt;br /&gt;-Si , ce vant te aduce pe aici? intreba el, de parca s-ar fi cunoscut de cand lumea.&lt;br /&gt;- Dorul ochilor tai, spuse ea strengareste. Dar brusc a napadit-o o senzatie de deja-vu. "Ce dracu?De unde il stiu?", iar ochii i s-au inegrit, acoperiti de norul gandurilor.&lt;br /&gt;-Nu te mai gandi, zise el, te-am urmarit un sfert de ora inainte sa ma asez la masa ta, chinuindu-ma sa imi aduc aminte de unde te stiu. Si n-am reusit. Presupun ca nici tu nu vei reusi, dar cert e ca te cunosc..."ca pe palmea mea" continua in gand.&lt;br /&gt;Iar ea a inceput sa rada si i-a facut cu ochiul strengareste.&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/18271628-8714831480419260821?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/8714831480419260821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=8714831480419260821' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8714831480419260821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8714831480419260821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2009/06/luna-arunca-cateva-fasii-de-lumina-de.html' title='El si ea, sau ea si el(1)'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-2913505810373222560</id><published>2009-06-12T15:09:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T15:42:26.656+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Visul unei nopti de vara</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Am visat ceva azi-noapte...subconstientul meu imi joaca feste,i s'o fi parand amuzant tare...&lt;br /&gt;- Dar ce-ai visat?&lt;br /&gt;-Am visat ca era un barbat, sexy cum numai un barbat in vis poate sa fie. Inalt, bine facut(solid,a nu se confunda cu trasul de fiare) cu par scurt si buze senzuale subtiri . Eram intr-o camera de hotel.&lt;br /&gt;-De ce de hotel?&lt;br /&gt;-N-am idee, poate vroia sa mi se sublinieze efemerul? Caci in hotel vii, stai, pleci. Sau cum s-ar spune: vine, ti-o trage si pleaca. Ma rog, revenind. Si era un pat (nu ma intreba de culoare) iar in dreptul patului o fereastra. M-am intins alene pe pat, intr-un cot, sa ii arat ceva. Nu stiu ce, poate la un laptop, poate niste poze, nu-mi aduc aminte. Si era ziua, caci soarele lumina cu putere in camera. S-a intins langa mine, cumva privind peste umarul meu si tragea cu sete dintr-o tigara, fumul amestecandu-se in parul meu. Cu o mana imi cucerea corpul.&lt;br /&gt;-Adica te pipaia :))&lt;br /&gt;-Nu draga, adica ma mangaia. E o diferenta enorma.&lt;br /&gt;-Si nu te deranja fumul ?&lt;br /&gt;-Ba asta m-a intrebat si el, iar eu i-am zambit, m-am ridicat si am deschis geamul. Era bine, o senzatie de liniste, de "nu ma poate supara nimeni" ...&lt;br /&gt;-Si??&lt;br /&gt;-Si ne-am dus in alta camera. Am iesit pe un hol, cu mocheta rosie. Eram desculta, simteam mocheta la picioare. Am intrat in a treia camera (numarand de la usa mea) si acolo era o tipa. O prietena. Era blonduta si nici grasa nici slaba...&lt;br /&gt;-Dar nu stiu pe nimeni asa, nu am prietene asa&lt;br /&gt;-Stiu, dar era o prietena. Asa o simteam. Si am glumit putin, el si-a aprins alta tigara, s-a asezat langa ea, pe un scaun. Nu stiu ce s-a mai spus, dar la un moment dat el imi zice sa il astept in camera, ca vine. Iar eu zambeam cu gura pana la urechi de parca asta ar fi fost normal.&lt;br /&gt;-N-ai sarit in parul ei? Ca eu asa faceam :))&lt;br /&gt;-N-am sarit, nu ti-am spus ca iti joaca subconstientul feste? Am iesit, tragand usa dupa mine, iar m-a intepat mocheta la picioare, am numarat usile inapoi pana am ajuns la a mea si am intrat iarasi in camera inundata de soare. Si eram perfect linistita, perfect multumita, de parca as fi auzit sunetul faptelor ce cadeau in fagasul lor, stabilit de mine.&lt;br /&gt;- Prostii.&lt;br /&gt;- Nu stiu. Poate asa trebuie sa fie. Poate mania si furia m-au impiedicat sa aud zgomotul acela de fapte ce se intampla ca asa trebuie.&lt;br /&gt;-Bun si dupa aia?&lt;br /&gt;-Nimic...m-am trezit.&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/18271628-2913505810373222560?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/2913505810373222560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=2913505810373222560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2913505810373222560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2913505810373222560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2009/06/eu-discutand-cu-mine.html' title='Visul unei nopti de vara'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-5504435180852510507</id><published>2009-06-11T01:09:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T01:37:51.785+03:00</updated><title type='text'>De ale mele. De ale tale.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;          De cand m-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ai sistat de la participarea la ...stii tu ce, mi-a disparut impulsul de a scrie. Atunci de voie-de nevoie scriam.Macar unul pe luna. Inspiratia venea.Cheful si mai si. Dar de atunci nimic, totul curge pe sub pod iar ideile mele plutesc purtate de ape. Mai-mai sa imi uit parola de la blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;          De cand am uitat sa scriu m-am dedat lucrurilor...meschine. Bicisnice.Fapte ce ma influenteaza negativ, karma mea e poluata. Ar fi fost timpul sa vorbesc despre prietenie, dar in schimb am tipat, am urlat, m-am zbatut. Ar fi fost timpul sa imi aleg altfel prietenii, altfel jocurile, altfel trairile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;          De cand am uitat sa scriu, am uitat sa privesc. Sa privesc in ochii unui om si sa ii sustin privirea. Sa ii spun "te gasesc interesant", fara sa mi se para a face un gest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;stupid. Sa ma bucur de o cafea, fara sa ma gandesc la ce fac-la cum ma comport- la ce am spus. Sa imi placa de un om si sa ma bucur de asta, in loc de a-mi fi frica.&lt;br /&gt;          De cand nu mai scriu, n-am mai baut ceai in ceainarie. Nu m-am bucurat de mirosul frunzelor aromate. Nu am m-am mai tolanit intr-o zapada, nici pe o iarba frageda. Mi-am suprimat copilariile si totusi, sunt destule, caci sunt , din nou, un "copilas". Un paradox. Dar acum apelativul nu ma bucura, doar parca rasuceste cutitul.&lt;br /&gt;         De cand am uitat, n-am mai terminat nici o carte. Am inceput, dar au ramas incepute, in biblioteca, cu semnul de carte in ele. N-am mai scris nici o poveste, am inceput sa spun si povestile si-au frant aripile. N-am mai cantat nimic, am inceput sa ascult si am ramas doar cu dorinta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;         Dar tu? Ma mai citesti?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SjA0sjElNuI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/G0wdkNGTgmo/s1600-h/Open+Book+lying+down.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 144px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SjA0sjElNuI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/G0wdkNGTgmo/s320/Open+Book+lying+down.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345830697622124258" 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/18271628-5504435180852510507?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/5504435180852510507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=5504435180852510507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5504435180852510507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5504435180852510507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2009/06/de-ale-mele-de-ale-tale.html' title='De ale mele. De ale tale.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SjA0sjElNuI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/G0wdkNGTgmo/s72-c/Open+Book+lying+down.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-6839587923445592512</id><published>2009-05-04T11:47:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T11:50:04.780+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Va invit la teatru</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Sf6r7wdf9bI/AAAAAAAAAYI/DFH9y6qFAD8/s1600-h/afis_A2_euroart_III+CEL+BUN.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Sf6r7wdf9bI/AAAAAAAAAYI/DFH9y6qFAD8/s400/afis_A2_euroart_III+CEL+BUN.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331888051962508722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Festivalul de teatru, 3-10 mai 2009, toate piesele vor fi jucate la teatrul Luceafarul, Iasi, pret bilet 10 lei.&lt;/span&gt; Va astept :)&lt;br /&gt;(clic pe imagine pentru a o mari)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-6839587923445592512?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/6839587923445592512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=6839587923445592512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6839587923445592512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6839587923445592512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2009/05/va-invit-la-teatru.html' title='Va invit la teatru'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Sf6r7wdf9bI/AAAAAAAAAYI/DFH9y6qFAD8/s72-c/afis_A2_euroart_III+CEL+BUN.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-2945204064371907098</id><published>2009-02-26T22:33:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T22:37:25.024+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey there.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Stand cu laptop'ul in brate (deh), mi-am adus aminte de blog. De faptul ca nu am dat nici un semn.  Poate nici nu asteapta nimeni.&lt;br /&gt;Sunt.&lt;br /&gt;O zi buna.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-2945204064371907098?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/2945204064371907098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=2945204064371907098' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2945204064371907098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2945204064371907098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2009/02/hey-there.html' title='Hey there.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-4202818282882074534</id><published>2009-01-15T12:03:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T12:13:18.763+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Well, welcome...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SW8LxxEJi0I/AAAAAAAAAX0/MxYC06e1tm0/s1600-h/ga990101.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 119px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SW8LxxEJi0I/AAAAAAAAAX0/MxYC06e1tm0/s400/ga990101.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291461036795857730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And happy new year! And Merry Christmas! And Happy Birthday! And all that stuff that we wish/send to another person. May all the good things come over you, may all your good wishes (not the evil ones :P ) come true. May you have succes and money (not that many, so I coud get a few :D) , health and good luck. And may your good side take over the evil side, so we can have peace on Earth (lol :D Yea, right, like that coud EVER happen ).&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad to be here, in the new year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SW8LFreDe3I/AAAAAAAAAXs/MICZhvm6NzM/s1600-h/ga070101.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 118px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SW8LFreDe3I/AAAAAAAAAXs/MICZhvm6NzM/s400/ga070101.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291460279379655538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(P.s. Images come from http://pt.jikos.cz/garfield/2009/ )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-4202818282882074534?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/4202818282882074534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=4202818282882074534' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4202818282882074534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4202818282882074534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2009/01/well-welcome.html' title='Well, welcome...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SW8LxxEJi0I/AAAAAAAAAX0/MxYC06e1tm0/s72-c/ga990101.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-1560640070537290758</id><published>2008-11-10T14:01:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T14:37:57.734+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogurile si personalitatea</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am preluat un articol. Bineinteles nu a fost frumos din partea mea, nu obisnuiesc sa dau cu "paste" daaar...  :) Este din revista Animatorul (google it) , iulie-august 2008 , articol scris de Felix Andrei, daca am inteles eu bine (legea dreptului de autor... )&lt;br /&gt;Si printre altele zice cam asa :&lt;br /&gt;" Termenul de blog este construit prin alipirea sintactica si semantica (sau prin tehnica "portmanteau"-ului) a cuvantului "web" si al cuvantului "log". Conceptul este relativ nou, aparitia termenilor ca blogosfera si blogger facandu-se dupa anul 2000. Primele bloguri au aparut la mijlocul anilor '90 cand o serie de studenti la facultatile de jurnalism si mai tarziu jurnalisti au inceput sa-si publice articolele refuzate si textele de opinie. [...]&lt;br /&gt;Iata intrebarea cheie: Cine sunt cu adevarat EU, cel care ma ascund in spatele blogului?&lt;br /&gt;Clasificari: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul sincer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; (cel mai des intalnit): bloggerul scrie despre ce i se intampla, accentuand si nuantand intamplarile semnificative, intr-un limbaj accesibil. De la filmulete, poze si intamplari pana la idei transpuse in schite, bloggerul sincer isi priveste cititorii ca pe niste parteneri de conversatie egali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul "cult" sau eul "superior"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: nesincer, nuanteaza si interpreteaza tot, uneori autovictimizandu-se. Uneori dedubleaza perspectiva si incearca sa para obiectiv.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul schizoid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; (se refera la cei care viseaza  cu "ochii deschisi" prea mult): abereaza intercaland trairi personale cu imagini si bucati de poezie si imagine "postmodernista" sau incearca sa para "dark". Nu are neaparat un blog prost, unele bloguri capatand chiar statutul de "culte" si fiind foarte apreciate datorita unui simt bizar al "coerentei".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul frustrat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: se autovictimizeaza constant si are impresia ca totul este indreptat impotriva lui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul ascuns:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; isi posteaza creatiile si preferintele insa nu insista prea mult asupra sa. Se deosebeste de bloggerul &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;mozaic &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(unde se intalnesc informatii amestecate din toate domeniile) si de cel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt; artistic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; (unde se expun fotografii, schite, muzica, bucati de poezie si proza sau orice alte creatii proprii) prin faptul ca raporteaza totul la propria traire si face in asa fel incat sa "manipuleze subtil" opinia cititorului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul vesel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: Viata e roz...hihi. Ce frumos e azi...hihi. Uita o poza cu un catelus...hihi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul "cool"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: abuzeaza de termeni argotici , se crede inteligent si descrie toate trairile folosind o combinatie bizara intre eufemisme si obscenitati.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul jucaus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: pseudo-ghicitori (ghiciti ce am facut eu azi, cu cine m-am intalnit), veselie mascata si referinte la postarile trecute ("dupa cum va spuneam....").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul erou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: descrie totul din perspectiva lucrurilor minunate pe care le face el, lucruri despre care este convins ca altii nu le pot face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul "mascat"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: se foloseste de un hobby pentru a-si descrie trairile. Nu ofera niciodata informatie reala despre respectivul hobby, insa da impresia ca blogul sau se incadreaza in categoria blogurilor tip hobby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Eul "mixt"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;: in general sare de la o atitudine la alta, de la posturile schizoide la veselia debordanta, intercaland printre posturi si observatii "obiective".&lt;br /&gt;[...] Ma intreb daca nu cumva se va reduce timpul de interactiune intre oameni, care vor socializa mai mult cu cei care pun comments decat cu altii "&lt;br /&gt;Acum va provoc la un test: va propun sa va analizati si sa vedeti daca intrati in tipar si in care anume. Sau poate mai adaugam vreun tip de "eu" caci oamenii sunt diferiti si interesele care ii mana de asemenea sunt diferite.&lt;br /&gt;Semnat : eul ascuns.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-1560640070537290758?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/1560640070537290758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=1560640070537290758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1560640070537290758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1560640070537290758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/11/blogurile-si-personalitatea.html' title='Blogurile si personalitatea'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-4343510753155119209</id><published>2008-10-31T11:06:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T11:29:07.357+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Mi-am adus aminte...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;...de blog. Uitandu-ma la frunzele galbene si incalzindu-ma la soare (18 grade... ai zice ca maine e prima zi din noiembrie?- nu ca as avea ceva cu caldura :) ). In statie. Statiile au devenit personale aproape. Stiu cand apare ceva nou , se schimba semnul, mai ia vreo masina vreo piatra din refugiu... Imi petrec minute bune din viata pe loc'sorul ala din piatra/beton. Si la fel ca mine cati alti oameni. Ar trebui sa puna niste boxe cu muzica, vreo banca-doua, vreo animatoare-doua... caci vorba aia petreci timp pretios asteptand mijlocul de transport ce nu mai vine, sau vine atat de ocupat incat trebuie sa mai astepti unul... Si ca sa nu te plictisesti...&lt;br /&gt; Mi-am adus aminte ca e aproape iarna, ca vine (iar) luna cadourilor, ca vine (iar) revelionul si uite asa trece viata si trec anii. Nu mai intru in detalii, caci ma apuca nostalgia.&lt;br /&gt; Din locul meu de la birou (am birou? am, sac!) va salut si va doresc o toamna/iarna cat mai placuta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-4343510753155119209?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/4343510753155119209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=4343510753155119209' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4343510753155119209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4343510753155119209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/10/mi-am-adus-aminte.html' title='Mi-am adus aminte...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-7011780264776642352</id><published>2008-10-11T09:54:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T10:08:02.105+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Noua pasiune...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...se numeste Talisman online. Ceva gen WOW (pt. cunoscatori), dar mult mai accesibil. E la free, serverul destul de stabil, resurse (ale compului) putine. Adica nu ocupa 'jpe zeci de giga precum wow, nu face frame-freeze, nu intampin nici o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; problema. Singurul deficient e ca multi dintre jucatori sunt ori BR (nu british, ci brazilian :D ), ori germani. Dar germanii sunt destul cu bun simt, chiar prietenosi (o fi si la ei diferenta intre generatii :)) - cei tineri sunt super ok) si folosesc engleza pentru comunicare.&lt;br /&gt;Revenind la joc. Primesti un character (:P) pe care poti sa il modifici foarte putin (ca si infatisare, dar deh resurse putine-remember?) monk, fairy, assasin, wizard and tamer. O lume micutsa, questuri, etc etc. Ca orice joc mmorpg.&lt;br /&gt;In principiu toate personajele sunt la fel cu avantaje si dezavantaje. Frumusetea jocului intervine in talismane. Pietricele ce le combini cu armele (weapon talisman), mount'ul, defence gear si altele. Aici intervine adevarata putere. Acele plusuri fac&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; diferenta. Si mai tre sa fii si norocos ca nu cumva sa failed la combine si sa pierzi si piatra si bani . Cum patesc eu de cele mai multe ori :)). In continuare va arat o monstra a unuia din char'urile mele.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SPBQH5PT2ZI/AAAAAAAAASg/jHJRG0Os5YE/s1600-h/talisman+online.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SPBQH5PT2ZI/AAAAAAAAASg/jHJRG0Os5YE/s200/talisman+online.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255788861695711634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-7011780264776642352?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/7011780264776642352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=7011780264776642352' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7011780264776642352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7011780264776642352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/10/noua-pasiune.html' title='Noua pasiune...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SPBQH5PT2ZI/AAAAAAAAASg/jHJRG0Os5YE/s72-c/talisman+online.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8194478916195979336</id><published>2008-10-10T09:54:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T09:59:10.743+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Errrrmmm...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Citez: "&lt;span dir="ltr"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nektulos.de/" onclick="" rel="nofollow"&gt;Stefan&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  said...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ei hai, ca nu e dracu' asa de negru :-)"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Multumesc Stefane pentru incurajare. Si pentru ca ti-ai pierdut din timp nu numai citindu-mi ... nemultumirile (sa spunem) ba chiar si scriind un rand. Si timpul e atat de pretios in ziua de azi!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Dar sa revenim. Ca sa demostrez ca totusi sus'numitul (dracu) e totusi negru, ba mai rau bate in roz-chilotel, va arat cam ce cauta lumea in google si da peste blogul meu... Si ce e si mai rau e ca blogul apare la keyword'urile acelea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pe primul loc... "Searched keyword  .... blog iubire" . Si pe locul doi "blog iubirea".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Speachless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-8194478916195979336?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/8194478916195979336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=8194478916195979336' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8194478916195979336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8194478916195979336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/10/errrrmmm.html' title='Errrrmmm...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-7428100439739112231</id><published>2008-10-07T11:47:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T12:01:30.631+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ceai</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Trecand peste faza cu intrebarile existentiale (la care oricum nu am gasit raspuns, la ce sa imi mai bat capul?) am ajuns la faza de negare. Fetita care l-a luat pe "nu" in brate a crescut ..in mine.&lt;br /&gt;Vrei sa iesim in oras? Nu. Vrei sa te uiti la film? Nu. Vrei sa mananci? Nu .(!!!)&lt;br /&gt;Si lista poate continua. Bineinteles lista va cuprinde si seria cu "ai patit ceva? am facut eu ceva? te-am suparat?" si toate celelalte intrebari care uneori chiar nu isi au rostul.&lt;br /&gt;Dar revenind. Stateam mai inainte si ma linciuream in ceasca (imensa!) de ceai. Da, de ceai, am scris bine, m-a prins un vanticel. Asa. Si ma uitam pe unele bloguri. Si-mi zisei "ia sa vad dom'le ce mai face blogu meu, sa il mai sterg de praf, sa ii mai alung paianjenii". Mno si intrai sa vad si traficu. Slab. Ca de obicei, deci nu m-am mirat. Dar ma bucuram ca macar cineva e interesat de soarta mea si mai da un clic sa vada de mai misc ori ba. Apoi ma uitai la "search engines". Google desigur detinea 88 la suta. Restul era ocupat de images google :)). Si ma mancara dejtele sa dau clic si pe "Seached keyword". Deziluzie. Tradare! ce mai incoace si incolo... nici urma de Poizan. Nici macar un 1%, nimic! Pe primul loc , fruntas apare "vederi Brasov".  Apoi bloguri de iubire, de ploaie, de orice mai putin de Poizan.&lt;br /&gt;Mno, si'mi stransei coada, imi luai canitsa de ceai inapoi (parasita pentru a da cu clicu) si va parasesc.Sa aveti o zi buna.&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/18271628-7428100439739112231?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/7428100439739112231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=7428100439739112231' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7428100439739112231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7428100439739112231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/10/ceai.html' title='Ceai'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-3186681191917872705</id><published>2008-09-27T10:38:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T10:46:50.762+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Cafeaua</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ce ne-am face fara ea? Mai ales cei care nu pot sa porneasca dimineata fara motorul numit cafea. Produsa in pester 50 de tari.Cei mai multi preferand &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;coffea arabica&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; . Lichid despre care s-au scris multe,dar poate nu destule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=baLaHiBPuR4"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=baLaHiBPuR4&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As recita o poezie in cinstea ei, dar inca n-am baut-o.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-3186681191917872705?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/3186681191917872705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=3186681191917872705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/3186681191917872705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/3186681191917872705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/09/cafeaua.html' title='Cafeaua'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-6651772969507600922</id><published>2008-09-25T11:31:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T11:48:51.532+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Revenind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;    M-am trezit tarziu. Si nici macar singura, noroc ca a tras cineva de mine. "TU nu te duci la munca??" ...eu am ridicat o ploapa..."e 9 jumate"... am ridicat si cealalta pleoapa. Informatia se procesa din greu... 9 jumate...CAAAT?? Sari, spala-te, imbraca-te, fa patul, rucsacul in spinare si hai, sho pe cai ca se filmeaza. (da, port rucsac in spate-cand merg la servici, indiferent de e vara-iarna, e mult mai comod decat o geanta. Si incap cele 2 seturi de chei, incarcatorul,telefoanele, etc etc).&lt;br /&gt;    Ca de obicei, vorbesc la telefon sau ascult muzica. Castile sunt tot timpul in urechi.&lt;br /&gt;    In fine, am ajuns. Scuzele de rigoare. Ma asez la comp, da-i cu navigatul (printre picaturi)... uite un human-age, un triburile... Facem cafeaua de dimineata (desi e trecut de 10), mai citim una-alta. Ne amuzam, mai click-uim... si ajungem pe o alta pagina.Tananaaaa! si uite dom'le pe unul care zice ca si-a parasit pretena pt ca nu avea destul sex. Ba chiar e si mandru de asta. M-am gandit sa ii raspund ceva, dar mai apoi... la o adica ce treaba am io cu individu?&lt;br /&gt;    Blogul meu n-a suferit din cauza unor asa teme. Nu mi-am prezentat relatiile (ma rog, in afara unor anumitor precizari -cum ar fi culoarea ochilor) , mai ales detaliile sexuale. Si as fi avut ce sa spun, ce sentimente sa insir, cu ce pozitii sa ma laud, sau mai stiu eu ce.&lt;br /&gt;    Si uite asa mi-am adus aminte ca n-am scris de mult. Ca probabil cei cativa cititori care isi aduc aminte de mine, au disparut de-a binelea. Ca n-am sa fac vreo avere din "bloggerit" (:P) nici nu o sa primesc recunostinta vesnica, sau sa trezesc interesul lumii de a ma cunoaste. Nici nu mi-am dorit. Nici nu imi mai aduc aminte de ce am inceput sa tastez pe aici. Dar e ca un petec, nu ma lasa inima sa il abandonez de tot, nici sa ii dau delete. Face parte din "haina" mea de netuitoare, n-as avea inima sa o sfasii (haina) si sa rup petecul, ar lasa o gaura. Poate nu chiar imensa, dar hei, mai bine peticita decat rupta :)&lt;br /&gt;   Bine te-am revazut peticel :)&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/18271628-6651772969507600922?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/6651772969507600922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=6651772969507600922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6651772969507600922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6651772969507600922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/09/revenind.html' title='Revenind'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-6666046608202675068</id><published>2008-08-05T23:06:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T23:24:40.982+03:00</updated><title type='text'>I fucking hate you</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="txt_1"&gt;For everything you do&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to swallow you&lt;br /&gt;And everyday I'm gonna blame you&lt;br /&gt;Even If you jutify&lt;br /&gt;Every fuckin bullshit lie&lt;br /&gt;It only makes me want to break you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You pull be down&lt;br /&gt;And you crucify my name&lt;br /&gt;You make me insane&lt;br /&gt;It's broken now&lt;br /&gt;Don't ever look my way&lt;br /&gt;Don't even think I'm playin&lt;br /&gt;Cause I fuckin hate you&lt;br /&gt;You're such a liar&lt;br /&gt;I love to hate you&lt;br /&gt;You're all the same to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you repeatedly&lt;br /&gt;Take advantage of me&lt;br /&gt;The only thought I get of you&lt;br /&gt;Sickens me&lt;br /&gt;Everybody knows your fake&lt;br /&gt;You're everything I fuckin hate&lt;br /&gt;And I'm everything you'll never be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You pull be down&lt;br /&gt;And you crucify my name&lt;br /&gt;You make me insane&lt;br /&gt;It's broken now&lt;br /&gt;Don't ever look my way&lt;br /&gt;Don't even think I'm playin&lt;br /&gt;Cause I fuckin hate you&lt;br /&gt;You're such a liar&lt;br /&gt;I love to hate you&lt;br /&gt;You're all the same to me &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fuckin hate you&lt;br /&gt;You're such a liar&lt;br /&gt;I love to hate you&lt;br /&gt;You're all the same to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-234464465d6e8960" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D234464465d6e8960%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331180096%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7BDA3F72E576E677484F8F1B599B1DA123F9F7D1.6BE99F6829F0343523DFBCA6C1E5C7CB8808A013%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D234464465d6e8960%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dal-3Z5vmCr8G5KWf_f0A-urOrVU&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D234464465d6e8960%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331180096%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D7BDA3F72E576E677484F8F1B599B1DA123F9F7D1.6BE99F6829F0343523DFBCA6C1E5C7CB8808A013%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D234464465d6e8960%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dal-3Z5vmCr8G5KWf_f0A-urOrVU&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-6666046608202675068?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=234464465d6e8960&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/6666046608202675068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=6666046608202675068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6666046608202675068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6666046608202675068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-fucking-hate-you.html' title='I fucking hate you'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8012613349309513647</id><published>2008-07-04T18:11:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T18:33:06.123+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't let me leave...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How can this be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; though all these years&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I have been true to thee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You had the nerve to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; you’re done with me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and that I should leave&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; girl, you’re killing me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Take another day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; before you go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and throw it all away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and if you do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I know we’ll find a way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; just believe in me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; ‘cause I’m here to stay &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Chorus:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don’t let me leave here, girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; ‘cause if I do I promise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I will look the other way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; girl, I know you need me by your side&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You don’t see it, but I know it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; This is why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; don’t let me leave here, girl&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; just let me tell you why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; you’re all I ever needed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and everything worth fighting for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; before you go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and throw it all away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; girl, I just know that we can find a way&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; please believe in me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; ‘cause I’m here to stay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-32e7c766df30223a" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" 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href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/8012613349309513647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=8012613349309513647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8012613349309513647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8012613349309513647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/07/dont-let-me-leave.html' title='Don&apos;t let me leave...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-1516830563723699010</id><published>2008-06-30T11:37:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T14:08:30.251+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of my head</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She took a chance. She felt something she didn't felt before. Maybe it was the weather, maybe it was he, maybe it was the situation itself...&lt;br /&gt;She didn't regret a second. If the time coud be tourn around it will happen exactly the same. Maybe she supposed to be a little more... let's say more wise. Maybe it's not the right way to catch a guy's heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I am who I am, and I can't be no one else&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You've got nothing nice to say, keep your comments to yourself...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She slept a little, just two hours. She tried to look somewhere else, to think of someone else, to do something else... She fall. And get fooled. She fooled herself, but that's another story.She loved to be inlove and feel the loving arms. To feel something different. To add some colour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You're in my head, get outta my head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Outta my, outta my head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Get outta my head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Outta my, outta my head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Outta my, outta my head&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now... how she will get out of this? But more important, does she want to do that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Get out of my head!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/18271628-1516830563723699010?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/1516830563723699010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=1516830563723699010' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1516830563723699010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1516830563723699010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/06/out-of-my-head.html' title='Out of my head'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-5396904281238648793</id><published>2008-05-23T23:41:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T23:50:56.086+03:00</updated><title type='text'>La agatat...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Relatia lor era determinata, in sine, de situatia lui speciala. El era si nu era aici. Asta influenta inerent iubirea lor. De aceea, tot ceea ce faceau era altfel decat la alte cupluri, trebuiau sa tina seama de cu totul alti factori.Nu-si faceau aceleasi planuri, priveau altfel viitorul. De fapt, ce viitor putea exista fara ca el sa aiba o identitate clara?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;autor: Nadine Gordimer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-5396904281238648793?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/5396904281238648793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=5396904281238648793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5396904281238648793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5396904281238648793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/05/la-agatat.html' title='La agatat...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-4187665919224204531</id><published>2008-05-03T23:28:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:28.900+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Spectacol de o ora ...contemporana.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SBzNLZSDFHI/AAAAAAAAASY/2DihvnU4JAE/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SBzNLZSDFHI/AAAAAAAAASY/2DihvnU4JAE/s400/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196253665727550578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"No,no, no, girl, don't say I love you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Isi clatina capul in ritmul muzicii, dorind poate sa danseze (cu tot ce mai aduce dansul...).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Poate si un pic de romantism.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Si cand se astepta mai putin...hop-top, uite cine aparu in fereastra de messenger...tananana... Cine vrea sa o invite la cafea...tanananaaaa (moment de suspans in care spectatorul mut isi tine respiratia si isi lungeste gatul-desi stie deja raspunsul).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Ia te uita, e chiar el. Da el, celui care era sa ii spuna ca il iubeste. Cel care nu citeste bloguri, nu asculta simfonii, nu vede piese de teatru.Nici macar cele in de zi cu zi , in care a jucat ea. Si poate si el. Anyway, chiar ii simtise dorul. Iar vrea la cafea la ora asta? Iar tarziu? Pardon, e ciocolata calda (si spectatorul zambi , poate putin cunoscator). Iar e ocupat maine, cand ea are timp... vrea sa ii auda vocea (si spectatorul era putin curios deja).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Il tachineaza, nu vorbeste. Doar tasteaza. Si vocea lui se aude... poate doar putin mai trista. Trista fiindca e refuzat. Refuzat? Si la o adica cu drepturile ei cum ramane? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Vei veni intr-o zi sa-mi spui ca-ti pare rau/dar sa stii e prea tarziu , nu te mai iubesc&lt;br /&gt;Nu te mai iubesc s-a terminat/sa stii ca nu glumesc e adevarat"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Si il refuza. Iar si iar, la fiecare doua minute, la fiecare rugaminte de a lui. Pentru ce? O vrea? Poate maine, azi e tarziu (spectatorul se uita la ceas: hmmm, nu e CHIAR asa de tarziu...daca ar vrea....). Dar nu vrea. De ce sa vrea? Pentru ce? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Ea isi scutura parul ud, de la baie. Tuseste putin, e racita. Si iar il refuza. Ba chiar se supara cand el spune ca nu o sa mai vina. Si daca? Nici asa ... isi aduce aminte de ea doar cand nu are ce face (spectatorul incuviinteaza din cap).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Si apoi el inchide. Pleaca. Fata ofteaza si isi da jos castile de pe urechi, lasandu-le sa se odihneasca pe unitate. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt; Pe fundal se pierd versurile melodiei...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nu te mai cred, nu te mai vreau, nu mai pot sa te iubesc/Ai stricat tot ce-a fost frumos s-a terminat..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Si spectatorul mut iese prin spate, fara sa mai aplaude.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-4187665919224204531?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/4187665919224204531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=4187665919224204531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4187665919224204531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4187665919224204531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/05/spectacol-de-o-ora-contemporana.html' title='Spectacol de o ora ...contemporana.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/SBzNLZSDFHI/AAAAAAAAASY/2DihvnU4JAE/s72-c/images.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-6208653162555695116</id><published>2008-05-02T23:35:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T00:05:10.462+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ploua...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;"Ploua...la naiba! Iar eu nu-i mai gasesc"  mormai ea printre dinti, uitandu-se cu jale de-a lungul potecii. "Si nici nu cred ca o sa se opreasca prea curand" mai spuse si ofta. Noroc ca isi luase haina galbena de ploaie in aceasta expeditie. Stii cu vremea asta de pe aici , nu poti fi niciodata prea precauta.&lt;br /&gt;Apa curge. Nu tare, nu furtunos cu tunete si fulgere, ci doar curge. Constant, incapatanat ai putea zice, de parca si-ar dori sa mute muntele din loc, sa il duca la vale, sa il stearga de pe fata pamantului. Si apa curge pe frunze, pe pietre, pe ea...&lt;br /&gt;"Si doar mi-a spus sa nu ma indepartez, sa am grija sa nu ne pierdem... al naibii ghid. Am impresia ca asta si-a si dorit" gandi ea si isi stranse mai bine gluga la gat. Porni pe poteca inainte,cautand cu ochii prin panza de apa, poate va zari rochia rosie a doamnei E. ... sau poate umbrela roz a domnisoarei batrane C. ....&lt;br /&gt;Dar nu zarea nimic. Nu se auzea nimic in afara de apa pe frunze. Nici o pasare, nici un fosnet de vant, nici un strigat a galagioaselor gaste cu care plecase in expeditie. Ai fi zis ca apa a tras o cortina ce inghitea orice zgomot , parca si plescaitul pasilor ei se pierdea.&lt;br /&gt;S-a gandit pentru o clipa sa se descalte, papucii ii erau imbibati. Dar apoi ... daca se impiedica de vreo cioata? E mai bine asa.&lt;br /&gt;Un fior o trecut pe sira spinarii...  Se simtea privita. Parca auzea o respiratie in ceafa...si s-a intors, dar nu era nimic. Si mai era si mirosul acela dezgustator, de caine ce a stat prea mult in ploaie, caine ud.&lt;br /&gt;"Nu-mi aduc aminte sa fi ajuns pe aici vreodata" se gandi, rotind ochii uimita in jur. Padure de brazi. "Pare veche, antica chiar. Mai ca-mi vine a crede ca voi gasi si o pestera a omului cavernelor" si chicoti, dar glasul i se franse brusc. Suna prea ciudat in linistea asta mormantala. "Brrr, suna a gol, a cavou". Si-a grabit pasii, dar nici pasii nu se mai auzeau, chiar deloc. Covorul de ace moarte il astupa. Iar mirosul acela de caine ud devenise si mai puternic. De parca o haita de lupi si-ar fi avut salasul aici , tocmai inainte de a veni ea.&lt;br /&gt;A vrut sa fuga. Si-a lasat papucii in urma, uitand de ranile ce ar putea veni. Alerga de parca un demon ar fi fost pe urmele ei. Si din viteza s-a impiedicat de un ciot, cazand pe patul de ace. Si-atunci a auzit. Un fosnet usor. Sau e doar o parere? Pielea i se increti , inima ii batea sa ii sparga pieptul. Apoi iarasi. Si sangele ii ingheta in vene,caci acum ii simtea intr-adevar rasuflarea. Si botul mirosind'o , saliva curgandu-i pe haina de ploaie, ghearele scormonind.&lt;br /&gt;Dar s-a oprit totul. Doar pentru o clipa a crezut ca a scapat, ca a fost doar o nalucire, ca asa bestie nu exista. Doar pentru o clipa...&lt;br /&gt;Un urlet a strabatut padurea facandu-le pe femeile din expeditie sa se stranga una in alta ca puii de gaina. Parca de femeie, parca de lup... perdeaua de apa e prea densa. "Ce... ce-a fost asta?" reusi sa ingaime una din ele, intrebandu-l pe ghid. "Nimic, ce sa fie? poate vreun lup" spuse el si ranji demonic. "Sa ne continuam drumul ... "spuse el tare, apoi pentru sine "...gasculitelor"... Si ranjetul i se lati pe toata fata.&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/18271628-6208653162555695116?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/6208653162555695116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=6208653162555695116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6208653162555695116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6208653162555695116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/05/ploua.html' title='Ploua...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-7340043616627798022</id><published>2008-04-11T18:57:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T19:01:06.438+03:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cris are gatul teapan de parca e lup.&lt;br /&gt;Ce ciudat suna numele meu.&lt;br /&gt;I really love Gwen Stefani &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIvNB3WnvFs&amp;amp;NR=1"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIvNB3WnvFs&amp;amp;NR=1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Nu sunt buna de scriitoare. Clar.&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/18271628-7340043616627798022?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/7340043616627798022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=7340043616627798022' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7340043616627798022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7340043616627798022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/04/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-3308876048383074340</id><published>2008-03-27T23:29:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T12:18:14.173+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Leapsa nr. 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Deci am vazut o leapsa pe blogul lui  &lt;code&gt;&lt;/code&gt;&lt;a href="http://coralfields.blogspot.com/"&gt;Cougar&lt;code&gt;&lt;/code&gt;&lt;/a&gt; si m-am gandit ca ar fi interesant sa o dau mai departe. Chit ca nu am fost trecuta printre cei ce au primit leapsa. Hei, oricum ii trebuiau macar 5 oameni... asa ca m-am oferit din oficiu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;code&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Regulile sunt cam asa:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/code&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* put your music player on shuffle.&lt;br /&gt;* press forward for each question.&lt;br /&gt;* use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesnt make sense. no cheating!&lt;br /&gt;* tag 5 people&lt;br /&gt;* bold the questions and with the answers, give your own comments on how it relates to the questions.&lt;br /&gt;roll the dice and let's begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mno, sa purcedem, ca sunt ceva intrebari si raspunsuri de scris :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. How are you feeling today? &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leonard Cohen - in my secret life ... melancolie? Eu? Azi? hmmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. Will you get far in life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snow White and the seven dwarfs - some day my prince will come. Dap, e disney. Ce cauta muzica pentru copii in compu meu... e discutabil :) Dar se pare ca da, voi fi tinuta bine de un print :))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. How do your friends see you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eram tentata sa raspund "do they see me at all??" . Morandi- Angels. "We can be better"... I should be better :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;4. Will you get married?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George Baker- Paris Nights - I guess not :d&lt;br /&gt;" Love is for the happy people&lt;br /&gt;Love stays only for awhile&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Walking the streets of Monmartre&lt;br /&gt;What to do&lt;br /&gt;Where to go&lt;br /&gt;To survive&lt;br /&gt;In the city of lights..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;5. What is your best friend’s theme?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firma- Baby is crying. Daca aruncam cu o sageata la darts nu nimeream mai bine... baby de obicei is crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. What is the story of your life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinderella -Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo  ......................................./me pica de pe scaun&lt;br /&gt;" Salagadoola mechicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo&lt;br /&gt;Put 'em together and what have you got&lt;br /&gt;bibbidi-bobbidi-boo&lt;br /&gt;Salagadoola mechicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo&lt;br /&gt;It'll do magic believe it or not&lt;br /&gt;bibbidi-bobbidi-boo&lt;br /&gt;Salagadoola means mechicka booleroo&lt;br /&gt;But the thingmabob that does the job is&lt;br /&gt;bibbidi-bobbidi-boo&lt;br /&gt;Salagadoola menchicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo&lt;br /&gt;Put 'em together and what have you got&lt;br /&gt;bibbidi-bobbidi bibbidi-bobbidi bibbidi-bobbidi-boo"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;7. What was high school like?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steam- Na Na Hey Kiss Him Goodbye . Ei kiss pe draq.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;8. How can you get ahead in life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AC/DC - Sin City... -iubesc melodia asta&lt;br /&gt;" Fingers Freddy, Diamond Jim&lt;br /&gt;They're gettin' ready, look out, I'm comin' in&lt;br /&gt;So, spin that wheel, cut that pack&lt;br /&gt;And roll those loaded dice&lt;br /&gt;Bring on the dancing girls&lt;br /&gt;And put the champaign on ice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm goin' in to Sin City&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna win in Sin City&lt;br /&gt;Where the lights are bright&lt;br /&gt;Do the town tonight&lt;br /&gt;I'm goin' in to Sin City"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. What is the best thing about your friends?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eddy Grant- I don't wanna dance...  probabil partea cu "never do something to hurt you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. What is in store for this weekend?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little mermaid - part of your world.... ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;11. What song describes you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bambi - little april shower . Clar, prea multe melodii pentru copilas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What song describes your grandparents?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abba- super trouper ... nope, not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;13. How is your life going?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maroon 5- Wake up call ... Loool. Mda, mi-ar place..." I had to shoot him dead" :d&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;14. What song will they play at your funeral?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lion King- Hakuna Matata&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;Hakuna Matata! What a wonderfull fraze&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;                           &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Hakuna Matata! Ain't no passing craze&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It means no worries for the rest of your days" Care rest of days? :)) Da' macar e dragutsa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;pre&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;15. How does the world see you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Demis Russos- My friend the wind.... really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;16. Will you have a happy life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penetrator - your kiss... wtf?? de unde am melodia asta?? hmm.Se pare ca voi fi la mila cuiva, ce ma va salva cu un pupic. Ya right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;17. Do people secretly lust after you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Garth Brooks- not counting you ..............?\&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;When loving turns to parting&lt;br /&gt;I'm always the first to leave&lt;br /&gt;Cause when it comes to heartaches&lt;br /&gt;I'd rather give than to receive&lt;br /&gt;I've never cried myself to sleep&lt;br /&gt;just praying I'll get through&lt;br /&gt;I've never lost at love not counting you"&lt;br /&gt;It's our problem-free philosophy&lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;18. How can i make myself happy?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan Paris- Dolce Vita&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;19. What should you do with your life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Opus- Life is live.... morala: live it while you can :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pfiu... dam leapsa mai departe,&lt;a href="http://ingercazut.blogspot.com/"&gt;Irina&lt;/a&gt;  si &lt;a href="http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-TeWNPOMrfq_WEXDQJHLxXePFyAE-?cq=1"&gt;Mary&lt;/a&gt;. Si de ce nu si pe &lt;a href="http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-VNrAvZs8bqFtpEAZXv5BUjloMdg-?cq=1"&gt;Mugur&lt;/a&gt;.Pe &lt;a href="http://alinutzasadicutza.blogspot.com/"&gt;Alina&lt;/a&gt; nu o mai introduc, caci deja are leapsa :D&lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-3308876048383074340?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/3308876048383074340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=3308876048383074340' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/3308876048383074340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/3308876048383074340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/03/leapsa-nr-1.html' title='Leapsa nr. 1'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-2680220659785314901</id><published>2008-03-24T21:38:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T21:48:59.674+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Miros...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Oare a ce miroase? Imi pare grozav de cunoscut, dar oare a ce? Cum se numeste?!"&lt;br /&gt;Si-a grabit pasul, urmarindu-l. Era la brat cu prietena (sau amanta), dar si-a mladiat mersul. A devenit felina. A pastrat o distanta acceptabila, dar totusi indeajuns cat sa isi umple plamanii cu acel parfum.&lt;br /&gt; Si-a simtit corpul infiorat de atingerea miresmei, o invaluia ca o mantie de matase, rece si totusi senzuala. Si-a inchis ochii pentru a mirosi mai mult, simturile ii erau atente la maxim.&lt;br /&gt; "Poate o sa ma observe... si ce?"&lt;br /&gt; Nu auzea nimic in jur, muzica ii rasuna in urechi, provocand si mai mult starea de visare.  Isi simtea corpul arcuit, de pisica alintata.&lt;br /&gt; "Hum? Peste? Se mananca maine peste? Damn , am pierdut mirosul..."&lt;br /&gt; Repede si-a grabit pasul pentru a-i ajunge. Pentru a-l ajunge... O dulce durere i s-a starnit prin tot corpul, din crestet si pana la talpi. Fiori durerosi si totusi atat de...&lt;br /&gt; Simtea ca ar putea sa isi ia avant catre alta dimensiune. Ca lumea se invarte pe degetul ei mic....&lt;br /&gt; "Erm? Flori de zarzar? Uh, iar l-am pierdut"&lt;br /&gt;&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/18271628-2680220659785314901?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/2680220659785314901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=2680220659785314901' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2680220659785314901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2680220659785314901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/03/miros.html' title='Miros...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-7722068705117726273</id><published>2008-03-19T13:50:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T14:07:13.756+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Deci fiecare scrie cate ceva... sa scriu si eu? Dar ce? "&lt;br /&gt;S-a uitat pe fereastra si a vazut cum au zburat foile unei fete... le invartea vantul si le fugarea. Si-a adus aminte de o poveste.... cu un manuscris... un tanar ce a pierdut cartea pe care prietenul i-o incredintate. Cum se numea oare?&lt;br /&gt; "I need somebody new." &lt;br /&gt; Se intinse pe pat, ascultand a nush cata oara melodia de la Daft Punk si inchise ochii/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A luat-o de mana, tragand-o jos din pat. A ridicat-o in brate si i-a sorbit buzele, ea privindu-l cu ochi mari. I-a soptit multe, nebunii, vise,dorinte, nelasand-o din brate. Si apoi a povestit ea, tot, tot, chinuindu-se sa respire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&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/18271628-7722068705117726273?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/7722068705117726273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=7722068705117726273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7722068705117726273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7722068705117726273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/03/deci-fiecare-scrie-cate-ceva.html' title=''/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-852137735390173464</id><published>2008-03-02T11:13:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T13:50:09.139+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Some kind of secret...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;It might not be the right time&lt;br /&gt;I might not be the right one,&lt;br /&gt;But there's something about us I want to say,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause it's something between us anyway...&lt;br /&gt;I might not be the right one,&lt;br /&gt;It might not be the right time,&lt;br /&gt;But it's something about us I got to do&lt;br /&gt;Some kind of secret I will share with you...&lt;br /&gt;I need you more then anything in my life&lt;br /&gt;I want you more then anything in my life&lt;br /&gt;I'll miss you more then anyone in my life&lt;br /&gt;I love you more then anyone in my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vXD0Xb6aZJI"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vXD0Xb6aZJI&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/18271628-852137735390173464?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/852137735390173464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=852137735390173464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/852137735390173464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/852137735390173464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/03/some-kind-of-secret.html' title='Some kind of secret...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-3306607704340625804</id><published>2008-03-01T11:12:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T11:12:59.098+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Martie</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;O primavara frumoasa , cu soare in suflet, doresc la toata lumea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-3306607704340625804?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/3306607704340625804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=3306607704340625804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/3306607704340625804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/3306607704340625804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/03/martie.html' title='Martie'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-5550925881302274604</id><published>2008-01-04T19:16:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T19:26:44.249+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Narnia...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Stateam in pat cu ochii zgaiti in intuneric si ma gandeam ce poveste frumoasa am sa scriu. Da stiu, suna a cliseu de doi bani. Prinsesem ideea principala de coada si ma invarteam in jurul ei, studiind'o pe toate partile. Si era vorba despre zapada, despre felinare ,despre printesa ghetii... cu pozele aferente- facute de mine.&lt;br /&gt;Dar mai apoi s-a dus naibii tot. Si am o stare de-mi vine sa musc.&lt;br /&gt;Eu sunt o lady...&lt;br /&gt;Deci mi-e bine.&lt;/span&gt;&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/18271628-5550925881302274604?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/5550925881302274604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=5550925881302274604' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5550925881302274604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5550925881302274604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2008/01/narnia.html' title='Narnia...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-2360887242635857813</id><published>2007-12-24T18:12:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T18:14:37.944+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sarbatori...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;...fericite. Cu lumina in suflet, caldura in case, bunatati pe masa, impliniri de vise si dorinte.&lt;br /&gt; La multi ani.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-2360887242635857813?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/2360887242635857813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=2360887242635857813' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2360887242635857813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2360887242635857813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/12/sarbatori.html' title='Sarbatori...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-4618709456913597344</id><published>2007-12-02T16:36:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T19:53:40.394+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Poison</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1c14Z0YUTU&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ce5a6f1f1e192e18" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" 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value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v20.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Da283234269790b92%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331180096%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D3F5425817F8C67C16A5DAA2A16DD1E03D98447A6.7C32ED5A461CF2EC4888EFF63C6894C4C5EFD092%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Da283234269790b92%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DTlU4-3bWV_pWRN_zAQ9SioYSADA&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v20.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Da283234269790b92%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331180096%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D3F5425817F8C67C16A5DAA2A16DD1E03D98447A6.7C32ED5A461CF2EC4888EFF63C6894C4C5EFD092%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Da283234269790b92%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DTlU4-3bWV_pWRN_zAQ9SioYSADA&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;alice cooper - poison&lt;br /&gt;  Prodigy-poison&lt;br /&gt;Nu Pagadi - Sweetest Poison&lt;br /&gt;Groove Coverage- Poison&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bardot -Poison&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the weathermen - poison&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-4618709456913597344?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=78b6b5f09e8c75f7&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=8cfc743f70b79b8f&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=a283234269790b92&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=c900cbc1418d100c&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=ce5a6f1f1e192e18&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/4618709456913597344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=4618709456913597344' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4618709456913597344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4618709456913597344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/12/poison.html' title='Poison'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-6620898181824024055</id><published>2007-11-22T15:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T15:27:33.186+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Common</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Common&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Unde?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In realitate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;Nu vreau in realitate!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Me se fataie pe scaunul imaginar. Imi arunc pe spate parul lung si des, si scutur din cap…imi place cum fosneste. Imi arunc o ocheada in oglinda de pe perete… oglinda, oglinjoara… ce frumoasa sunt… Zambesc strengareste si ma ridic sa imi vad si trupul imaginar. Ce dimensiuni.. ce forme… ce bine sunt conturate toate… Ranjesc cu superioritate : pot sa am pe oricine vreau. Trebuie doar sa clipesc din genele dese, sa ma uit cu ochii albastri maaari de copil, sa imi legan un pic soldurile in joaca, sa rotunjesc vocalele astfel incat gura mea sa para si mai apetisanta…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Ma las pe spatarul scaunului imaginar. Ce face o femeie sa fie perfecta ? Perfecta pentru o parte considerabila de populatie (pentru toti nu cred ca ar putea fi vreodata). Perfecta din punctul de vedere al altor femei (femeile sunt cei mai rai critici).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;I don’t have plans and dreams… since I don’t have you ! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You!You!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;Dansez, ma invart in bratele printului. A aparut pe calul cel alb si e atat de frumos… Da, sunt superficiala, ma uit la frumusete. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="DE"&gt;Ba nu, nu e vorba de asta… e vorba de brate. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;De bratele lui, cu care ma tine strans-strans. E vorba de sentimentul de protectie. De vorbe soptite la ureche,ce ma infioara.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;Eu, i-am spus vremii sa stea in loc… amintirea mea… vreau sa fie a ta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;Sa fiu unica. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;Sunt unica. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;Sa imi las amprenta in memoria fiecaruia. Nu, sa nu ma regrete, ci doar sa se bucure de faptul ca m-a intalnit. Ca a intalnit un inger. Un inger sau un demon ? Un demon frumos. Frumos pe afara, inauntru e doar foc si sange.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;I would do anything for love… but I won’t do that…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;Nu pot. Sa fiu unica si demon.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mi-e frica, la urmatorul hop sa nu ma sparg…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-6620898181824024055?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/6620898181824024055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=6620898181824024055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6620898181824024055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6620898181824024055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/11/common.html' title='Common'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-3506723700132200495</id><published>2007-11-02T16:42:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T16:55:18.852+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Stairway to heaven</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Odata ca niciodata, cand eram mai mica, asa... prin '99, a fost la tv un serial. The Crow-stairway to heaven, varianta dupa celebrul film "The Crow" cu si mai celebrul Brandon Lee. Varianta in 22 de episoade avea ca personaj principal acelasi individ dornic de razbunare, jucat de mai putin celebrul (pe atunci) Mark Dacascos. Interpretare exceptionala...pe langa chipul expresiv actorul mai are si antrenament de kung fu (chiar vreo cateva campionate europene castigate) ceea ce il face perfect pentru acest rol de razbunator.&lt;br /&gt; De prin vremea aceea am prins eu o pasiune pentru dumnealui actorul si implicit pentru toate filmele in care joaca.&lt;br /&gt; Deci "I -inima- Mark Dacascos". Recomand cu caldura acel serial si filmele in care joaca.&lt;br /&gt; Vizionare placuta... multsumesc,asemeni.&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/18271628-3506723700132200495?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/3506723700132200495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=3506723700132200495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/3506723700132200495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/3506723700132200495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/11/stairway-to-heaven.html' title='Stairway to heaven'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-2871840850413557116</id><published>2007-10-12T12:22:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:29.969+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Vederi - marea</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89cKyG_xI/AAAAAAAAARw/NoHAiac048Y/s1600-h/IMG_0141.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89cKyG_xI/AAAAAAAAARw/NoHAiac048Y/s200/IMG_0141.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120378855483703058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89cqyG_yI/AAAAAAAAAR4/8FZVQO6niSo/s1600-h/IMG_0142.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89cqyG_yI/AAAAAAAAAR4/8FZVQO6niSo/s200/IMG_0142.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120378864073637666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89c6yG_zI/AAAAAAAAASA/Gi38TtQ1KSQ/s1600-h/IMG_0144.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89c6yG_zI/AAAAAAAAASA/Gi38TtQ1KSQ/s200/IMG_0144.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120378868368604978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89dayG_0I/AAAAAAAAASI/T0UY9QFx-kg/s1600-h/IMG_0145.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89dayG_0I/AAAAAAAAASI/T0UY9QFx-kg/s200/IMG_0145.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120378876958539586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89dqyG_1I/AAAAAAAAASQ/Pjpqb_NMrFo/s1600-h/IMG_0146.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89dqyG_1I/AAAAAAAAASQ/Pjpqb_NMrFo/s200/IMG_0146.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120378881253506898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Si cam asta a fost plimbarea mea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-2871840850413557116?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/2871840850413557116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=2871840850413557116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2871840850413557116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2871840850413557116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/10/vederi-marea.html' title='Vederi - marea'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw89cKyG_xI/AAAAAAAAARw/NoHAiac048Y/s72-c/IMG_0141.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-6549706650924838769</id><published>2007-10-12T12:06:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:36.581+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Vederi-Brasov</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw88CayG_vI/AAAAAAAAARg/mJ7FeBdf0hE/s1600-h/IMG_0116.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw88CayG_vI/AAAAAAAAARg/mJ7FeBdf0hE/s200/IMG_0116.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120377313590443762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw88CqyG_wI/AAAAAAAAARo/tt4zeoESuWI/s1600-h/IMG_0124.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw88CqyG_wI/AAAAAAAAARo/tt4zeoESuWI/s200/IMG_0124.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120377317885411074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw87tKyG_rI/AAAAAAAAARA/_vxvw6W9OsM/s1600-h/IMG_0110.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw87tKyG_rI/AAAAAAAAARA/_vxvw6W9OsM/s200/IMG_0110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120376948518223538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Piata sfatului&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw87t6yG_tI/AAAAAAAAARQ/SHfk1THoHxk/s1600-h/IMG_0113.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw87t6yG_tI/AAAAAAAAARQ/SHfk1THoHxk/s200/IMG_0113.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120376961403125458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw87uayG_uI/AAAAAAAAARY/1WLKQ0R9NgM/s1600-h/IMG_0115.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw87uayG_uI/AAAAAAAAARY/1WLKQ0R9NgM/s200/IMG_0115.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120376969993060066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw87tqyG_sI/AAAAAAAAARI/_phOiowVBUs/s1600-h/IMG_0112.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw87tqyG_sI/AAAAAAAAARI/_phOiowVBUs/s200/IMG_0112.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120376957108158146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw87s6yG_qI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/cgG7dCWdvKk/s1600-h/IMG_0096.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw87s6yG_qI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/cgG7dCWdvKk/s200/IMG_0096.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120376944223256226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw866KyG_lI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/omKFTlG-JdQ/s1600-h/IMG_0091.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw866KyG_lI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/omKFTlG-JdQ/s200/IMG_0091.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120376072344895058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw866ayG_mI/AAAAAAAAAQY/o23I1XgzUm8/s1600-h/IMG_0092.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw866ayG_mI/AAAAAAAAAQY/o23I1XgzUm8/s200/IMG_0092.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120376076639862370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw8666yG_nI/AAAAAAAAAQg/-xOHSUVLklE/s1600-h/IMG_0093.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw8666yG_nI/AAAAAAAAAQg/-xOHSUVLklE/s200/IMG_0093.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120376085229796978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw867KyG_oI/AAAAAAAAAQo/4Qv--HQEoFk/s1600-h/IMG_0094.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw867KyG_oI/AAAAAAAAAQo/4Qv--HQEoFk/s200/IMG_0094.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120376089524764290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw867ayG_pI/AAAAAAAAAQw/Yx_dSQqfROc/s1600-h/IMG_0095.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw867ayG_pI/AAAAAAAAAQw/Yx_dSQqfROc/s200/IMG_0095.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120376093819731602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw86HayG_kI/AAAAAAAAAQI/joBMbrPH26M/s1600-h/IMG_0088.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw86HayG_kI/AAAAAAAAAQI/joBMbrPH26M/s200/IMG_0088.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120375200466533954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw85sayG_eI/AAAAAAAAAPY/hSnxHE6XiYw/s1600-h/IMG_0071.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw85sayG_eI/AAAAAAAAAPY/hSnxHE6XiYw/s200/IMG_0071.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120374736610065890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw85s6yG_fI/AAAAAAAAAPg/6xzJrAI4xlM/s1600-h/IMG_0072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw85s6yG_fI/AAAAAAAAAPg/6xzJrAI4xlM/s200/IMG_0072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120374745200000498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw85t6yG_gI/AAAAAAAAAPo/FEfXPcl7fA4/s1600-h/IMG_0074.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw85t6yG_gI/AAAAAAAAAPo/FEfXPcl7fA4/s200/IMG_0074.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120374762379869698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw85uqyG_hI/AAAAAAAAAPw/kJFvjKYloGw/s1600-h/IMG_0075.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw85uqyG_hI/AAAAAAAAAPw/kJFvjKYloGw/s200/IMG_0075.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120374775264771602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw85u6yG_iI/AAAAAAAAAP4/H-PK13v7pHs/s1600-h/IMG_0077.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw85u6yG_iI/AAAAAAAAAP4/H-PK13v7pHs/s200/IMG_0077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120374779559738914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Bise rica nea gra&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Poiana Brasov&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-6549706650924838769?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/6549706650924838769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=6549706650924838769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6549706650924838769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6549706650924838769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/10/vederi-brasov.html' title='Vederi-Brasov'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw88CayG_vI/AAAAAAAAARg/mJ7FeBdf0hE/s72-c/IMG_0116.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-7441726286255274990</id><published>2007-10-12T11:58:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:38.978+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Vederi-drum</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84rayG_cI/AAAAAAAAAPI/n8rsZQlsruM/s1600-h/IMG_0125.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84rayG_cI/AAAAAAAAAPI/n8rsZQlsruM/s200/IMG_0125.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120373619918568898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;M-am plimbat un pic... Brasov,Constanta,Poiana... Timp scurt,dar totusi am facut cateva poze. Mai intai cele de pe drumul spre Brasov si cele spre Constanta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84rqyG_dI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/s7omL65sWD8/s1600-h/IMG_0127.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84rqyG_dI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/s7omL65sWD8/s200/IMG_0127.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120373624213536210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84L6yG_XI/AAAAAAAAAOg/E_AV5EA5B1k/s1600-h/IMG_0022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84L6yG_XI/AAAAAAAAAOg/E_AV5EA5B1k/s200/IMG_0022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120373078752689522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84MayG_YI/AAAAAAAAAOo/uTcOExdJCo0/s1600-h/IMG_0028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84MayG_YI/AAAAAAAAAOo/uTcOExdJCo0/s200/IMG_0028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120373087342624130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84MqyG_ZI/AAAAAAAAAOw/LqdqW35sz3k/s1600-h/IMG_0034.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84MqyG_ZI/AAAAAAAAAOw/LqdqW35sz3k/s200/IMG_0034.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120373091637591442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84NKyG_aI/AAAAAAAAAO4/NWI5bIjuBSA/s1600-h/IMG_0038.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84NKyG_aI/AAAAAAAAAO4/NWI5bIjuBSA/s200/IMG_0038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120373100227526050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84NqyG_bI/AAAAAAAAAPA/JiBuiEN-WHM/s1600-h/IMG_0046.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84NqyG_bI/AAAAAAAAAPA/JiBuiEN-WHM/s200/IMG_0046.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120373108817460658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw83jayG_SI/AAAAAAAAAN4/M_NM0HonwEo/s1600-h/IMG_0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw83jayG_SI/AAAAAAAAAN4/M_NM0HonwEo/s200/IMG_0001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120372382967987490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw83jqyG_TI/AAAAAAAAAOA/hWquwTf_dwE/s1600-h/IMG_0002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw83jqyG_TI/AAAAAAAAAOA/hWquwTf_dwE/s200/IMG_0002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120372387262954802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw83j6yG_UI/AAAAAAAAAOI/ELjUSS5OhOo/s1600-h/IMG_0006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw83j6yG_UI/AAAAAAAAAOI/ELjUSS5OhOo/s200/IMG_0006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120372391557922114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw83kayG_VI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/GcLBBlZsF48/s1600-h/IMG_0012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw83kayG_VI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/GcLBBlZsF48/s200/IMG_0012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120372400147856722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw83kqyG_WI/AAAAAAAAAOY/9XrkdMkPc7M/s1600-h/IMG_0014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw83kqyG_WI/AAAAAAAAAOY/9XrkdMkPc7M/s200/IMG_0014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5120372404442824034" 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/18271628-7441726286255274990?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/7441726286255274990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=7441726286255274990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7441726286255274990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7441726286255274990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/10/vederi-drum.html' title='Vederi-drum'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rw84rayG_cI/AAAAAAAAAPI/n8rsZQlsruM/s72-c/IMG_0125.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-5339683320171087235</id><published>2007-09-25T18:27:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T18:55:54.121+03:00</updated><title type='text'>The kiss of dawn</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Blinded I am... and so are you..."&lt;br /&gt;Asculta cu ochii inchisi melodia care ii strabatea mintea, notele izbindu-se de pereti... Scormonind prin trecut, cautand sa isi aduca aminta ultima luna, ultimul an. Ce s-a intamplat in toata vremea asta,a imbatranit nestiind cum si de ce, nestiind sa profite. Sa profite de zi,de noapte, de viata.A pierdut timpul cu el iar ochii s-au indreptat instinctiv spre poza de langa comp. Pentru cine?&lt;br /&gt; "I'm tired the games I'm playing with you..."&lt;br /&gt; Usa s-a deschis. A intrat zambitor ca intotdeauna, ce faci.... "Te parasesc!"- a tipat mintea ei, iar buzele ascultatoare au rostit "te parasesc...". Privi ochii lui increzatori, nu se putea asa ceva... era a lui."Am mai spus asta, stiu, dar zau ca te parasesc... nu cand ajung la facultate, nu la toamna, nu la Craciun... Acum."&lt;br /&gt; Seara isi arunca umbrele rosiatice in camera,umbrindu-i sentimentele. Melodia pusa pe repeat ii chinuia mintea... uitand sa il simta. Il privea si incerca sa ghiceasca... oare o sa planga?&lt;br /&gt; Si el planse, o stranse in brate cu forta,sa o tina aproape...dar mainile ei atarnau pe langa corp, ca o papusa de carpa. Fara sa se impotriveasca,dar si fara sa raspunda. Cu glas timid el a intrebat "de ce? cu ce am gresit?". Ca o suverana , a raspuns "stii prea bine.In plus ti-am spus de mult ca se va intampla. Nu m-ai crezut, e problema ta". Cuvintele nu mai aveau nici o rezonanta in inima ei, nu o mai intepa nimic...nu-i mai pasa. De ce sa ii mai pese? A incercat, i-a spus, l-a atentionat. Si el tacut ca intotdeauna nu a spus nimic, nu a facut nimic decat sa zambeasca si sa creada ca va rezolva cumva. Mintea ei tipa iarasi:"am o viata,vreau sa o traiesc... tu ai trait-o pe a ta,nu te mai grabesti nicaieri...dar eu?!Egoistule!"&lt;br /&gt; S-a desprins din bratele lui, l-a lasat cu privirea inlacrimata si incremenita de neputinta si de uimire. S-a desprins de trecut, de comoditate. "Mai ales de comoditate!" a mai tipat mintea ei, ironic. Si a plecat.&lt;br /&gt;  "I'm reaching for your shadow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Drowning in the kiss of dawn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Touching the pain you left me with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; At the kiss of dawn..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HIM- The kiss of dawn &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnQuEMieWdg"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnQuEMieWdg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/18271628-5339683320171087235?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/5339683320171087235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=5339683320171087235' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5339683320171087235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5339683320171087235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/09/kiss-of-dawn.html' title='The kiss of dawn'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-9002621511940881251</id><published>2007-09-18T16:54:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:43.185+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Marea</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_gVfZYktI/AAAAAAAAAIs/F7Ra8E7c_3E/s1600-h/IMG_0068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_gVfZYktI/AAAAAAAAAIs/F7Ra8E7c_3E/s200/IMG_0068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111550761898644178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ce sa mai spun? Unde,cand, de ce? Au ramas doar pozele si linistea din suflet... Mai multe detalii cu alta ocazie.Enjoy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_gV_ZYkuI/AAAAAAAAAI0/45xt3ZXUHt0/s1600-h/IMG_0072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_gV_ZYkuI/AAAAAAAAAI0/45xt3ZXUHt0/s200/IMG_0072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111550770488578786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_gYPZYkvI/AAAAAAAAAI8/Ip9yhH66eUU/s1600-h/IMG_0078.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_gYPZYkvI/AAAAAAAAAI8/Ip9yhH66eUU/s200/IMG_0078.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111550809143284466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_e2_ZYkrI/AAAAAAAAAIc/GnFvYLEZ8iM/s1600-h/IMG_0044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_e2_ZYkrI/AAAAAAAAAIc/GnFvYLEZ8iM/s200/IMG_0044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111549138401006258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_e3fZYksI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8cfKK4t3r-4/s1600-h/IMG_0049.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_e3fZYksI/AAAAAAAAAIk/8cfKK4t3r-4/s200/IMG_0049.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111549146990940866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_dIfZYkjI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Wpd1hi9Blns/s1600-h/IMG_0027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_dIfZYkjI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Wpd1hi9Blns/s200/IMG_0027.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111547240025461298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_dI_ZYkkI/AAAAAAAAAHk/dlI-TEn7CaE/s1600-h/IMG_0028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_dI_ZYkkI/AAAAAAAAAHk/dlI-TEn7CaE/s200/IMG_0028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111547248615395906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_dJPZYklI/AAAAAAAAAHs/bV2yU1rMyZE/s1600-h/IMG_0031.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_dJPZYklI/AAAAAAAAAHs/bV2yU1rMyZE/s200/IMG_0031.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111547252910363218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_dJfZYkmI/AAAAAAAAAH0/fLxBtvMVq6c/s1600-h/IMG_0033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_dJfZYkmI/AAAAAAAAAH0/fLxBtvMVq6c/s200/IMG_0033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111547257205330530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_dJ_ZYknI/AAAAAAAAAH8/mj_peIJfJ2w/s1600-h/IMG_0036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_dJ_ZYknI/AAAAAAAAAH8/mj_peIJfJ2w/s200/IMG_0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111547265795265138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_cBPZYkeI/AAAAAAAAAG0/BeLNMoQYbqk/s1600-h/IMG_0021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_cBPZYkeI/AAAAAAAAAG0/BeLNMoQYbqk/s200/IMG_0021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111546015959781858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_cBvZYkfI/AAAAAAAAAG8/q41q5mzIw48/s1600-h/IMG_0022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_cBvZYkfI/AAAAAAAAAG8/q41q5mzIw48/s200/IMG_0022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111546024549716466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_cB_ZYkgI/AAAAAAAAAHE/RoMaspjnVK4/s1600-h/IMG_0023.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_cB_ZYkgI/AAAAAAAAAHE/RoMaspjnVK4/s200/IMG_0023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111546028844683778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_cDPZYkiI/AAAAAAAAAHU/x-O6j-F6DoA/s1600-h/IMG_0026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_cDPZYkiI/AAAAAAAAAHU/x-O6j-F6DoA/s200/IMG_0026.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111546050319520290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_ZefZYkZI/AAAAAAAAAGM/-f_RVHxbi3E/s1600-h/IMG_0005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_ZefZYkZI/AAAAAAAAAGM/-f_RVHxbi3E/s200/IMG_0005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111543219936072082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_Ze_ZYkaI/AAAAAAAAAGU/4TMFlS4n16M/s1600-h/IMG_0017.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_Ze_ZYkaI/AAAAAAAAAGU/4TMFlS4n16M/s200/IMG_0017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111543228526006690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_ZffZYkbI/AAAAAAAAAGc/UN0uMnY6q2A/s1600-h/IMG_0018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_ZffZYkbI/AAAAAAAAAGc/UN0uMnY6q2A/s200/IMG_0018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111543237115941298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_Zf_ZYkcI/AAAAAAAAAGk/pbDeBRLP75E/s1600-h/IMG_0019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_Zf_ZYkcI/AAAAAAAAAGk/pbDeBRLP75E/s200/IMG_0019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111543245705875906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_ZgfZYkdI/AAAAAAAAAGs/c8SIAeHMHZU/s1600-h/IMG_0020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_ZgfZYkdI/AAAAAAAAAGs/c8SIAeHMHZU/s200/IMG_0020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111543254295810514" 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/18271628-9002621511940881251?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/9002621511940881251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=9002621511940881251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/9002621511940881251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/9002621511940881251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/09/marea.html' title='Marea'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ru_gVfZYktI/AAAAAAAAAIs/F7Ra8E7c_3E/s72-c/IMG_0068.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-7397383941008431635</id><published>2007-08-22T09:16:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T09:26:25.248+03:00</updated><title type='text'>What a woman needs?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Femeile au nevoie de brate aparatoare. Nu neaparat pentru ca e iubitul/prietenul, dar simtim nevoia sa mai transmitem din griji altora (fiind bine stiut faptul ca uneori femeile isi fac griji pur si simplu degeaba).Si ce bine e sa plangi,sa reversi naduful, sa lasi capul pe pieptul lui si sa uiti de toate. E un fel de pastila, te face sa crezi ca toate problemele au disparut. Ei bine, nu dispar, dar senzatia din clipa aia... Femeile au nevoie de bratele barbatilor. Sa isi simta capul linistit, sa se calmeze si sa se simta aparate. Asta le face ca a doua zi sa aiba puteri de munca si sa"apuce taurul de coarne".&lt;br /&gt;Intr-un episod din "Sex in the City" este un schimb de replici (intre cele 4 protagoniste) care l-am tinut minte in special. Suna cam asa:&lt;br /&gt;"-Barbatii sunt ca taxiurile. Cand sunt pregatiti de casatorie se aprinde lumina de deasupra si atunci stii ca e liber.&lt;br /&gt;-La mine majoritatea barbatilor au luminile pe avarie sau stinse.&lt;br /&gt;-Iar prima care le iese in cale se casatoresc si gata.&lt;br /&gt;-Refuz sa cred ca nu e dragoste si e vorba doar de noroc.&lt;br /&gt;- Crede-ma asa e. Si daca barbatii pot sa fie nu fie pregatiti de casatorie in schimb femeile au lumina aprinsa de cand se nasc."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-7397383941008431635?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/7397383941008431635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=7397383941008431635' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7397383941008431635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7397383941008431635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/08/what-woman-needs.html' title='What a woman needs?'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-6109280440836487850</id><published>2007-08-20T20:15:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:43.488+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  Unde şi când m-am ivit în lumină nu ştiu,&lt;br /&gt;din umbră mă ispitesc singur să cred&lt;br /&gt;că lumea e o cântare.&lt;br /&gt;Străin zâmbind, vrăjit suind,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;în mijlocul ei mă-mplinesc cu mirare.&lt;br /&gt;Câteodată spun vorbe cari nu mă cuprind,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;câteodată iubesc lucruri cari nu-mi răspund.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RsnM4AOB2KI/AAAAAAAAAEc/brPNxsTGbak/s1600-h/xinsrc_0e95ca27c73c4d13a066f113123c21c4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RsnM4AOB2KI/AAAAAAAAAEc/brPNxsTGbak/s200/xinsrc_0e95ca27c73c4d13a066f113123c21c4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5100833315477379234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;De vânturi şi isprăvi visate îmi sunt&lt;br /&gt;ochii plini,&lt;br /&gt;de umblat umblu ca fiecare:&lt;br /&gt;când vinovat pe coperişele iadului,&lt;br /&gt;când fără păcat pe muntele cu crini.&lt;br /&gt;Închis în cercul aceleiaşi vetre&lt;br /&gt;fac schimb de taine cu strămoşii,&lt;br /&gt;norodul spălat de ape subt pietre.&lt;br /&gt;Seara se-ntâmplă mulcom s-ascult&lt;br /&gt;în mine cum se tot revarsă&lt;br /&gt;poveştile sângelui uitat de mult.&lt;br /&gt;Binecuvânt pânea şi luna.&lt;br /&gt;Ziua trăiesc împrăştiat cu furtuna.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Lucian Blaga- Biografie &lt;a href="http://www.romanianvoice.com/poezii/poezii/biografie.php"&gt;http://www.romanianvoice.com/poezii/poezii/biografie.php&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-6109280440836487850?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/6109280440836487850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=6109280440836487850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6109280440836487850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6109280440836487850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/08/eu.html' title='Eu.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RsnM4AOB2KI/AAAAAAAAAEc/brPNxsTGbak/s72-c/xinsrc_0e95ca27c73c4d13a066f113123c21c4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-1382710690401165578</id><published>2007-07-13T15:43:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:43.702+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Comment</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rpd0f4xRYOI/AAAAAAAAAEE/qN829tXtLXc/s1600-h/Ph_home.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rpd0f4xRYOI/AAAAAAAAAEE/qN829tXtLXc/s200/Ph_home.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086662395302076642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sunt aici, spuse ea si il saruta. Nu te simt... nici nu m-ai simtit vreodata,doar ti s-a parut... pt ce m-ai retinut atunci, sa-mi faci rau mie? nu,imi plac iluziile..."&lt;br /&gt; "ce a fost el? magician , cand am pronuntat cuvantul copil a disparut"&lt;br /&gt;"Am vrut sa... stiu... si m-am... stiu si asta... dar daca ai stiut atunci de ce a fost asa? ... el ridica neputincios din umeri"&lt;br /&gt;&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/18271628-1382710690401165578?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/1382710690401165578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=1382710690401165578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1382710690401165578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1382710690401165578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/07/comment.html' title='Comment'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rpd0f4xRYOI/AAAAAAAAAEE/qN829tXtLXc/s72-c/Ph_home.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-7945707489602490230</id><published>2007-07-12T11:33:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:44.109+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Si eu...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Statea la masa terasei acum destul de pustie, cu berea in fata.Era la marginea plajei, puteai sa treci de bara de lemn direct in nisip si apoi vreo cativa metri pana la mare. Fumega usor din tigara si sorbea din sticla. Din cand in cand isi strangea mai tare haina la piept. Se intunecase de-a binelea, luminile erau majoritatea stinse, doar un bec mai arunca o fasie de lumina pe nisip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RpYqLoxRYNI/AAAAAAAAAD8/dIk1hmsd70o/s1600-h/HPIM0757.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RpYqLoxRYNI/AAAAAAAAAD8/dIk1hmsd70o/s200/HPIM0757.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086299208572559570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Valurile erau luminoase, spuma alba parca stralucea... se vedeau cum se agita... ireal de luminoasa, ca si cum toate luminile se aprinsesera in palatul marii.&lt;br /&gt;Aerul era rece, atat de rece... miroase a alge. Un miros asa specific... si apa de la robinet miroase a alge si a sarat. In camere poate fi atat de racoare, incat de miri cum de soarele nu reuseste sa incalzeasca betonul... peretii au iz de igrasie.&lt;br /&gt;Zambi si se gandi la mare... la marea atat de iubita.&lt;br /&gt;"E o straina. O simt ciudat, cum pulseaza cu furie si durere, cu vointa si dor de razbunare" se gandi ea. " O fi din cauza soarelui, care ii arde nisipul si scoicile si ii biciuie valurile pana se incalzesc de-a binelea.O fi din cauza oamenilor care se arunca in bratele ei, fara sa o intrebe daca ii doreste, fara sa aiba grija de ceea ce fac... oameni care nu au nimic sfant in ei, care au uitat limbajul marii, care nu mai stiu sa o asculte si sa o respecte. "&lt;br /&gt;Marea vui si mai tare. Ii simteai amenintarea... forta... marinarii din vechime stiau sa o preaslaveasca si sa se teme de mania ei. A furat sute de oameni, pe care i-a dus in palatele de clestar. Doar un brat si dispari sub panza ei, pentru a nu mai fi gasit vreodata.&lt;br /&gt;Se temea de mare. O stie puternica, ii aude glasul rece si atotstapanitor. Ce putin o cunoaste lumea... toti vin pe soare, cand vantul e incalzit si e racoros, cand valurile sunt incalzite si minunate... cand pana si marea e obosita de atata zbucium impotriva oamenilor si ii mai pasuieste. Dar in restul timpului... atunci e fata ei adevarata. Cand valurile se sparg cu zgomot si teama ti se infiltreaza in suflet, mai ceva ca igrasia.  Cand soarele nu mai arde asa de tare incat vantul iti patrunde pana la piele. Cand apa e asa de rece incat apropierea ei parca te electrizeaza.&lt;br /&gt;Dar totusi... " pielea mea e sarata, are un miros al oamenilor marii... totusi o iubesc"&lt;br /&gt;"Si eu va iubesc, oamenii mei" sopti marea.&lt;br /&gt;Ea isi lua sticla de bere si se muta pe nisip, sa fie mai aproape de mare...&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/18271628-7945707489602490230?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/7945707489602490230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=7945707489602490230' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7945707489602490230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7945707489602490230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/07/si-eu.html' title='Si eu...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RpYqLoxRYNI/AAAAAAAAAD8/dIk1hmsd70o/s72-c/HPIM0757.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-1445194830178137611</id><published>2007-07-06T15:21:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:44.479+02:00</updated><title type='text'>My bride...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ro4_hIv2dpI/AAAAAAAAABg/xQ9q9VmHVI0/s1600-h/38f9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084070867864286866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ro4_hIv2dpI/AAAAAAAAABg/xQ9q9VmHVI0/s200/38f9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She's beautiful like an angel. Her eyes, her lips, her hair...&lt;br /&gt;-My beautiful husband , she whisper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ed, I could die just now. Would you die tonight for love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;He was scared... looked gazed at her, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;suspecting that she wants to kill him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ro5Ba4v2duI/AAAAAAAAADE/_jtubx9Rd64/s1600-h/Bride.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084072959513360098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ro5Ba4v2duI/AAAAAAAAADE/_jtubx9Rd64/s200/Bride.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Her eyes were sparkling, her lips were thirsty for blood,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; her &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;hair was loose and wild... His old specters appared to hunt him: his thoughs were frozen,his smile was broken...&lt;br /&gt;-My beautiful husband, what's wrong? asked her, w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ith a strange look on her face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In his mind he screamed "I'm not ready to die!" , but his lips couldn't move to talk,he just grined. He though that he should&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; run, just get out the door and run, to a friend, to somebody,anybody... to be far away from her,at least this night and tomorow...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ro4_44v2dsI/AAAAAAAAAB4/jBmhfDQJEgA/s1600-h/belsay1.png"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Her body was moving slowly towards to him. She walked like a godess, twisting on the rithm of music that only she could hear. Her eyes were half closed, breathing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; slow .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;He couldn't move, coudn't take his eyes off her, she was so sexy, so glamorous... instead of runnig he came closer to her. He touched her skin, softer then a peach, her hands with long and thin fingers, her neck beautiful and elegant like a swan...&lt;br /&gt;They were moving on the music now, a music that filled them with joy and lust...&lt;br /&gt;- My beautiful husband....she whispered one more time, and her eyes closed,and her lips stoped in an eternal smile.&lt;br /&gt;He was beside her,on the floor, looking for one more time at her. His lips finally moved and he could whisper:&lt;br /&gt;-My bride...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-1445194830178137611?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/1445194830178137611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=1445194830178137611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1445194830178137611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1445194830178137611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-bride.html' title='My bride...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Ro4_hIv2dpI/AAAAAAAAABg/xQ9q9VmHVI0/s72-c/38f9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-5738717483421457380</id><published>2007-07-05T13:01:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:44.660+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweetest poison...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RozCmIv2doI/AAAAAAAAABY/a1D8yOlOD_Y/s1600-h/Nu-Pagadi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RozCmIv2doI/AAAAAAAAABY/a1D8yOlOD_Y/s200/Nu-Pagadi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083652039833450114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;                     &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Poison........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Poison........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You're my sweetest Poison&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ich bin kein Dämon,&lt;br /&gt;doch etwas Böses ist da schon&lt;br /&gt;In meinem Kopf in meinem Blut&lt;br /&gt;genau darum bin ich so gut&lt;br /&gt;Ich bin das Wasser in der Wüste&lt;br /&gt;Reptil im Paradies&lt;br /&gt;Niemand dem ich ein Lächeln schenk&lt;br /&gt;Der sich nicht küssen lies&lt;br /&gt;Die Augen sind geschlossen&lt;br /&gt;Ich ziele nach Gefühl&lt;br /&gt;Bewege mich in Kreisen&lt;br /&gt;und komm trotzdem an mein Ziel&lt;br /&gt;Ich bin Nitroglitzerin&lt;br /&gt;Lösche Feuer mit Benzin&lt;br /&gt;Wer mich in seinen Venen fühlt&lt;br /&gt;wird mir nicht mehr entfliehen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the falling angels pray&lt;br /&gt;For my sweetest poison......&lt;br /&gt;I can take this tears away&lt;br /&gt;You're my sweetest poison....&lt;br /&gt;And I crash and I burn&lt;br /&gt;and I freeze in hell&lt;br /&gt;For your poison.....&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I'm living my life&lt;br /&gt;in the dark of your spell&lt;br /&gt;You're my sweetest poison......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wer hat dir gesagt,&lt;br /&gt;dass ich im Herzen schuldlos bin?&lt;br /&gt;Die Sünde liegt im Schlaf&lt;br /&gt;mit dir erwacht das Höllenkind&lt;br /&gt;Vom Himmel abgestürzt&lt;br /&gt;erleuchtet in der Dunkelheit&lt;br /&gt;die Macht der Liebe hält für dich&lt;br /&gt;das süsse Gift bereit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the falling angels pray&lt;br /&gt;For my sweetest poison......&lt;br /&gt;I can take this tears away&lt;br /&gt;You're my sweetest poison....&lt;br /&gt;And I crash and I burn&lt;br /&gt;and I freeze in hell&lt;br /&gt;For your poison.....&lt;br /&gt; I'm living my life&lt;br /&gt;in the dark of your spell&lt;br /&gt;You´re my sweetest poison......&lt;br /&gt;Feel me rushing through your venes&lt;br /&gt;can you feel the pression pain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poison....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&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/18271628-5738717483421457380?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/5738717483421457380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=5738717483421457380' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5738717483421457380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5738717483421457380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/07/sweetest-poison.html' title='Sweetest poison...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RozCmIv2doI/AAAAAAAAABY/a1D8yOlOD_Y/s72-c/Nu-Pagadi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-69361936205519872</id><published>2007-07-04T16:15:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:44.822+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll think about this tomorow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rouhp4v2dmI/AAAAAAAAABI/46Q4bVjwa2o/s1600-h/An_Ocean_of_Teardrops_by_valkirye.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083334345397532258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rouhp4v2dmI/AAAAAAAAABI/46Q4bVjwa2o/s200/An_Ocean_of_Teardrops_by_valkirye.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Maybe I did a mistake... maybe I'll loose something more precious than I'll ever know. I can't do it... I can't go easy on ppl, I can't think like others... my logic is to go str8 to the point, ask what I want, get an answer (or not) and don't bother with some other things like that man's (or woman) feelings. It's just a question, why should I bother? I don't do harm with a question... or do I?&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to know... that was a silly question I think, but that's not the point. I feel like I've loose. Don't know what yet... but something... it's there and it's bugging me. I wish I could say like Scarlet O'Hara "I'll think about this tomorow"... and tomorow will never come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;If tomorow never comes...woud she know how much I loved her?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No... I guest she won't...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-69361936205519872?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/69361936205519872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=69361936205519872' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/69361936205519872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/69361936205519872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/07/maybe-i-did-mistake.html' title='I&apos;ll think about this tomorow'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/Rouhp4v2dmI/AAAAAAAAABI/46Q4bVjwa2o/s72-c/An_Ocean_of_Teardrops_by_valkirye.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-4750557307518435123</id><published>2007-07-04T05:11:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:45.071+02:00</updated><title type='text'>My Bruce...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was like... WOAAAW!! It's Bruce Willis... it is really him... all the girls in the crawd screaming "we love you Bruce!!"&lt;br /&gt;But she was just looking. Smilling, with her eyes, with her mouth, with her all body... it was a kid smile... He first saw her, that day was the beggining of a long way... She saw him... never though that it will become something serios and durable.&lt;br /&gt;She was playfull... funny talk, funny person. She was shy, but bold...ugly,but beatifull... chatterbox, but silent... She was full of surprises...you can never know what she will say next, her mind is like a butterfly. It flews from here to there and back... this ideea looks like a red flower... that like a yellow one... let's go back to the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; red.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RopoaYv2dkI/AAAAAAAAAA4/n-A1qT7TZog/s1600-h/BruceWillis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RopoaYv2dkI/AAAAAAAAAA4/n-A1qT7TZog/s200/BruceWillis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082989931970065986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And he was... charmed. By her youth, by her talk, by her ideeas, by her. He never though that he could have her, not that way, not that much. He was silent, but his eyes talked for him... he was obediently, but his arms worked for him... and he was shy, but his lips did the magic. With his little dimple, with his wrinkles and his eyes somethimes so green (like a deep water) he charmed her.&lt;br /&gt;He is my Bruce...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-4750557307518435123?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/4750557307518435123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=4750557307518435123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4750557307518435123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4750557307518435123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-bruce.html' title='My Bruce...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RopoaYv2dkI/AAAAAAAAAA4/n-A1qT7TZog/s72-c/BruceWillis.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-3393247259282859357</id><published>2007-07-03T13:11:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T13:36:12.985+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Cald</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;E atat de cald... soarele se prelinge pe pamant, ca o lava. Aerul e fierbinte, atat de fierbinte... isi dorea sa fi avut o panza pe fata, ca beduinii din desert.&lt;br /&gt; Cand a intrat in camera intunecata a avut un mic fior de placere... soarele nu ajunge nicicand in geamuri. Racoarea a invaluit-o ca o mantie si hainele zburara in toate directiile, lasandu-i pielea sa respire in voie. Pielea ei... ca o piersica coapta bine, infierbantata de soarele amiezii.&lt;br /&gt; S-a intins linistita pe pat. Ochii in tavan... mintea receptiona doar senzatia de usurare, de imponderabilitate...&lt;br /&gt; Si a visat. A visat pe el... pe ei. Pe rand s-au perindat ca un film. Unul...si inca unul... si viata de acum... cine e mai important? Razbunarea sau trairea? Si ea... si el... si iar ea si iar el. Altii, altele. In continua miscare si agitatie. Si sentimente... are sentimente. A crezut ca au murit.  Il iubeste pe el... o iubeste pe ea... nu-l iubeste pe el... vrea sa il desparta... vrea sa o faca sa renunte...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; I'm not that inocent...&lt;/span&gt;&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/18271628-3393247259282859357?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/3393247259282859357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=3393247259282859357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/3393247259282859357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/3393247259282859357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/07/cald.html' title='Cald'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8984867544873266456</id><published>2007-07-02T19:44:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T20:01:08.748+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Who am I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;For some time now I'm writting e-mails for somebody... Nop, I said wrong, I'm writting e-mails instead of somebody. Because I know english a little bit and she (yes, is a she) doesn't know at all. So she tells me what to write...and I translate. Of course I could say a lot of things and write something complete different, but's not my style.&lt;br /&gt;And I write for a man... an older man (older than my boyfriend, laugh). I know now about his life, where he lives (it's clear that he doesn't leave in ro, and he is not a romanian guy, that's why we talk in english, neh?), about his wife, his child,his town (it looks like Sibiu, a little more old and a little more good-looking- the city I mean), his work.&lt;br /&gt;We talk about his interest... now he wants a web-page and he has some problems with the html code ... It's funny I'm writting about html to him, about something that she doesn't have a clue. If they meet (they know each-other before,so...it's not that hard :) ) that will be an issue. How can you talk about something that you don't know? But that's not my concern.&lt;br /&gt;I just... I think I just like him. For what he knows, for what he is... for the pics that he send with his town... the biiiiig plane 707 from the museum... We have some interest: history of city (ok, not all the history, I prefer old places and buildings) , muzeums, books, internet ... a little bit of everything. And he listens to music...&lt;br /&gt;I'm waiting for his e-mail every day, I must say that he caught me a little :)) But every time I open the e-mail I see that it's not my name that he writes... the good wishes are not for me...&lt;br /&gt;It's frustrating... I know I could tell him a lot of things, but ... I can't. I must limit to her life. I must talk about her free-time, about her interests, about her and her plans...&lt;br /&gt;Who sayes that being somebody else is fun?&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/18271628-8984867544873266456?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/8984867544873266456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=8984867544873266456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8984867544873266456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8984867544873266456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/07/who-am-i.html' title='Who am I?'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8852116087843232295</id><published>2007-06-29T18:00:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T18:19:52.811+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Principii sau dragoste</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Me: se pare ca principiile sunt mai aproape decat dragostea... sau mai impunatoare &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Her: da&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" &gt;Her: mai bine sa ai principii decat dragoste&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si cu ocazia asta am mai facut o incursiune in trecut. De parca nu ar fi fost de ajuns...&lt;br /&gt;Am avut o saptamana plina de amintiri. Nu melancolice, sau vesele, sau de neuitat. Amintiri si atat. Am navigat pe bloguri. Si am descoperit mentori... care poate au fost si ai altora. Pe care nu credeam ca o sa ii mai intalnesc.&lt;br /&gt;Am gasit frustrarea intre randuri. Si ciuda, limbaj rautacios (voit!). Si dragoste , tot intre randuri. Si egoism (oh, da, egoismul asta...!).&lt;br /&gt;Dar mi se pare ca totusi prea multe persoane s-au incurcat... intre ele si eu in povesti. Teoria "small world" pare perfect aplicabila zilele astea, cel putin in cazul meu.&lt;br /&gt;Mi-am adus aminte si de mine. Inainte de septembrie, dupa septembrie. Ce a fost atunci? Nimic. Ma rog, poate ceva... au lipsit si principiile si dragostea.&lt;br /&gt;El replica: "n-au lipsit"... eu : "Nu?Atunci cum se explica? Nu ai cum explica nu-i asa?"... au fost si principii si dragoste... dar nu in momentul potrivit si nici in cantitate suficienta.&lt;br /&gt;Am pornit bineinteles fara principii si fara dragoste. Dar am cerut apoi si de una si de alta. Nu, de fapt n-am cerut, m-am asteptat. Si dezamagirea e si mai crunta atunci cand e inselata speranta.&lt;br /&gt;But who cares anyway? Why am I writting this stuff? Dunno... it was the feeling... that I wanna write something. Something about principals and love... And I didn't made it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-8852116087843232295?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8852116087843232295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8852116087843232295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/06/principii-sau-dragoste.html' title='Principii sau dragoste'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8409956581322923791</id><published>2007-06-17T19:04:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-06-17T19:06:14.050+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Template</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;L'amour collection...&lt;br /&gt;Template made by me. Do you like it? I do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-8409956581322923791?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8409956581322923791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8409956581322923791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/06/template.html' title='Template'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8081366701158090641</id><published>2007-06-15T18:28:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T18:29:11.443+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Poveste 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt; &lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Intr-o gradina plina de toate speciile de flori, crestea chiar in centru, o floare fara nume. Era mare, dar fara farmec si fara parfum. Pentru florile nobile ale gradinii nu reprezenta altceba decat o buruiana si pentru acest motiv nu-i adresau nici o vorba. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;Dar planta fara nume avea o inima plina de bunatate si idealuri.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Cand primele raze ale soarelui din zori dezmierdau pamantul jucandu-se cu picaturile de roua, facandu-le sa para diamante stralucitoare pe camelii, rubine si safire pe trandafiri, celelalte plante se intindeau inca lenese. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;Planta fara nume in schimb , nu pierdea nici o raza de soare. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;Le sorbea. Transforma toata lumina soarelui in forta vitala, in proteine. Astfel, dupa putin timp, floarea mica si slaba avea o tulpina puternica ajungand la doi metri inaltime.Plantele din gradina incepura sa-i arate respect si chiar o invidiau.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;« Lungana asta a innebunit ! » ziceau daliile si margaretele. Dar planta fara nume nu le dadea nici o importanta. Avea un plan : daca soarele se misca pe cer isi intorcea floarea ca sa nu cumva sa-l piarda vreo clipa. Desigur nu se putea dezradacina, dar reusea sa isi miste tulpina dupa soare. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="DE"&gt;Astfel nu erau despartiti niciodata.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Primele care si-au dat seama de acest lucru au fost hortensiile care, asa cum toti stiu, sunt barfitoare si clevetitoare.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;« S-a indragostit de soare » ziceau lalelele zambind. « Oh, ce romantic » sopteau emotionate viorelele. Uimirea ajunsese la culme cand in capatul de sus al tulpinii se desfacu bobocul si aparu o floare ce semana lei cu soarele. Era mare, rotunda , cu o coroana de petale galbene, de un galben auriu cald si bland. Garoafele ii dadura numele de « floarea soarelui » pentru a o lua in ras, dar le placu tuturor. Din acea clipa cand se interesa cineva de nume , raspundea : « ma numesc Floarea Soarelui ».&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Trandafirii, hortensiile si daliile care nu incetara de barfit aceasta planta care, dupa parerea lor, era o ciudatenie ce ascundea prea mult orgoliu sau, mai rau, un sentiment dezordonat. Gura-leului, floarea cea mai curajoasa din gradina, se adresa direct florii soarelui : « De ce te uiti mereu la soare ? De ce nu ne invrednicesti macar cu o privire ? Suntem si noi plante ca si tine ! »&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;« Prieteni, raspunse Floarea Soarelui, sunt fericita sa traiesc cu voi, dar eu iubesc soarele. El este viata mea si nu-mi pot lua ochii de la el. Il urmez in drumul sau. Il iubesc asa de mult incat simt ca, deja , ma aseman cu el., Ce e de facut ? Soarele este viata mea si eu traiesc pentru el… »&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Floarea Soarelui a vorbit tare, asa ca toate florile au auzit ceea ce a spus ea. Si, de fapt, in inima lor mica si parfumata, au simtit o mare admiratie pentru indragostita soarelui.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-8081366701158090641?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/8081366701158090641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=8081366701158090641' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8081366701158090641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8081366701158090641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/06/poveste-3.html' title='Poveste 3'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-1519837529132481359</id><published>2007-06-10T12:00:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T12:02:54.179+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Text</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;E noapte… cu un cer albastru albastru intens, ca de catifea. Cu o luna putin ascunsa de vreo doi nori trecatori. Si fara vant. E totusi devreme, doar ora 21… oameni mai sunt pe strada, prin parc, se plimba sau stau de vorba. Umbre ce soptesc, umbre ce tipa. Becurile nu reusesc sa inlature toata intunecimea noptii de catifea. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Trec masini in viteza… se grabesc acasa, sau poate debia incep munca ? Sunt oameni si masini… oameni si bestii de metal sau bestii si masini…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Miroase intens a iarba. Iarba arsa de soarele zilei… acum respira in racoarea noptii. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;O simti cum te gadila, cum vrea sa te acapareze, sa iti lase tie povara… &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="DE"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Mi-e frica. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;Nu ma urmareste nimeni, nu ma baga nimeni in seama caci ma strecor tacuta ca o umbra... pe sub copaci… pe langa pereti. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="DE"&gt;Dar mi-e frica. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;Simt cum imi scrijeleste inima din cand in cand. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;Frica de ce? Frica de cine ?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sufletul tremura uneori, fiori trec pe sira spinarii. Tineri trec pe langa mine razand si tinandu-se de mana. Ei nu simt … Copacii sosotesc, ii aud dar ma prefac ca nu inteleg. Mai repede, mai repede… ma inconjoara noaptea sa dorm in bratele ei, dar ma tem de ea… ma tem de bratele ei racoroase, de surasul ei de luna stirba… de pieptul ei scortos.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Ii simt rasuflarea rece in ceafa, subtil… nu incearca sa ma sperie, doar ca se simte singura. Imi e frica de singuratatea ei, nu vreau sa devin ca ea… Imi place soarele, viata, florile deschise… Iar luna imi zambeste iarasi. Stiu noapte de catifea si tu ai flori si pasari si lumina lunii in lac. Si pat din nori si lumanari din stele. Si romantismul, drama, linistea… dar mi-e frica de linistea ta… de intunericul tau,cand e luna plina… de inimi ce se frang si plang … de nebunii si regrete… Aduci multe regrete noapte, mai multe decat aduce ziua. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Si am fugit. Am fugit cat am putut de ea, de regrete… si de singuratate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&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/18271628-1519837529132481359?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/1519837529132481359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=1519837529132481359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1519837529132481359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1519837529132481359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/06/text.html' title='Text'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-2609340689918733686</id><published>2007-06-01T11:53:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T12:05:30.582+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Poezie</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;Toate-s vechi… de unde versuri noi ?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De unde sa-mi exprim sufletul in culori ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="DE"&gt;S-a terminat, culori sunt acum doar in nori&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar sufletul… e doar in intuneric.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="DE"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;          &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Toate-s vechi... unde au fugit visele?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si oamenii… OAMENII pe unde se ascund ?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si cat o sa mai petreaca cautand&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa uite ca au imbatranit ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="FR"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Toate-s vechi… ca un pian uitat,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu clapele prafuite si galbene…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uitat la filarmonica langa un perete&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="DE"  style="font-size:12;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Trist fara muzica…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-2609340689918733686?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2609340689918733686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2609340689918733686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/06/poezie.html' title='Poezie'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-7032033773471609295</id><published>2007-05-22T13:48:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:45.298+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Angel sanctuary</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RlLMcB5BSmI/AAAAAAAAAAo/_b4GsxnPIII/s1600-h/angelsanctuary1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RlLMcB5BSmI/AAAAAAAAAAo/_b4GsxnPIII/s200/angelsanctuary1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067337312661228130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O iubeste... e sora lui, dar o iubeste mai mult decat e permis. Parintii lor s-au despartit chiar din acest motiv, sa ii indeparteze. Dar iubirea creste... si ea il iubeste... recunoaste... El fuge, ea pleaca... se intorc, impreuna...&lt;br /&gt;E un inger, printre cei mai mari ingeri... el e o femeie, UN INGER. Cu 3 aripi si puteri nemasurate... lumea vrea sa o sa trezeasca, el vrea doar sa o iubeasca... Iar moartea ei a dus la disperare. A murit... iubirea lui, viata lui, sora lui, lumea lui... nu poate exista o lume fara ea...&lt;br /&gt;Dar i se ofera sansa sa se duca pe taramul celalalt dupa ea. Sa ii gaseasca sufletul ... lumea ramane neschimbata in urma, el-cu un cutit infipt in piept pleaca cu zambetul pe buze dupa ea...&lt;br /&gt;Dar se va intoarce.Iar ingeri si demoni nu pot decat sa astepte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=9BB3032E7C47F506"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=9BB3032E7C47F506&lt;/a&gt;&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/18271628-7032033773471609295?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/7032033773471609295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=7032033773471609295' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7032033773471609295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7032033773471609295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/05/angel-sanctuary.html' title='Angel sanctuary'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RlLMcB5BSmI/AAAAAAAAAAo/_b4GsxnPIII/s72-c/angelsanctuary1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-568672127225665411</id><published>2007-05-21T16:20:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T10:13:24.664+03:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm calling u...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;...When all my goals, my very soul/Ain't fallin' through...&lt;br /&gt;"De ce el poate si tu nu? Vreau si eu sampanie si flori si bomboane... nu am pretentia sa ma duci la mare sau in Bulgaria, dar totusi... te-ai obisnuit sa vin la botul calului, sa mananci, sa drinkuiesti si sa te simti bine... scurt si repede.. ce ma tot bagi pe gatul oamenilor? N-ai auzit ca sunt mironosita? eu nu beau , nu fumez, nu beau cafea. Ce sa caut acolo? Eu vreau timp cu tine... nici nu mai stiu de cand nu mi-ai adus flori sau cand pur si simplu nu ne-am grabit. Sunt mai batrani ca noi cu 10 ani si totusi... 4 ORE!! Adica el poate si tu nu? sau...cum?"&lt;br /&gt;Asta la ora 22. Mai departe...&lt;br /&gt;I'm calling you...&lt;br /&gt;I don't need nobody&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; I don't fear nobody...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-568672127225665411?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/568672127225665411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=568672127225665411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/568672127225665411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/568672127225665411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/05/im-calling-u.html' title='I&apos;m calling u...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-6339159027035656764</id><published>2007-05-20T16:17:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-05-21T16:20:20.801+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Am plecat...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;...si am venit. Am plecat cu inima stransa pentru doua minute si m-am intors cu inima stransa vreo saptamana.&lt;br /&gt;Mi-e dor de mare deja... de oamenii pe care i-am cunoscut, de starea de bine, bunastare, semibetie, relaxare... de rasete si de mesele bune cu muzica buna. De iesirea mea din cochilie. De mirosul apei sarate impreuna cu alge, de tipatul pescarusilor, senzatia apei reci in contact cu pielea mea, nisipul fin printre degete...&lt;br /&gt;Am sa ma intorc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-6339159027035656764?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/6339159027035656764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=6339159027035656764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6339159027035656764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6339159027035656764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/05/am-plecat.html' title='Am plecat...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-4933106005648648695</id><published>2007-04-18T10:03:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T10:09:27.750+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Iubirea...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;... e un sentiment destul de complex pentru a incape in cateva randuri...&lt;br /&gt;Iubirea de mama... de frati/surori... pt iubit(a)... pentru prieteni...&lt;br /&gt;Iubirea mea, ea e iubirea mea...&lt;br /&gt;M-a cuprins duiosia, m-am inmuiat, simt nevoia sa imi revars iubirea.&lt;br /&gt;Iubitul meu... el e iubitul meu...&lt;br /&gt;M-as arunca in ale lui brate, sa uit de restul, sa uit ca mai exista si servici,casa,lume...&lt;br /&gt;Iubire...&lt;br /&gt;Un pic vreau...doar un pic...un coltisor al meu in care sa ma fac mica-mica si sa iau o gura de aer.&lt;br /&gt;Aer... Atat, o gura numai , o mica pauza...&lt;br /&gt;Unde e luptatoarea din mine?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-4933106005648648695?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/4933106005648648695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=4933106005648648695' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4933106005648648695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4933106005648648695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/04/iubirea.html' title='Iubirea...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-6811611785757449927</id><published>2007-03-30T18:55:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T19:20:58.736+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Aiureli pe hartie</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Draga mea bucata de hartie...nici nu stiu cu ce sa incep. Ma simt asa dezamagita, incat as plange sa curga parau. Dar  nu mai am lacrimi si in plus nu ajuta nimanui.De ce ar ajuta? Si pe cine intereseaza? Ma simt singura, te am doar pe tine si ... si nu stiu. Poate exagerez. Poate lumea nu a murit in totalitate, poate nu sunt singura...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ma simt goala. A murit ceva inauntru, nu stiu, poate si ultima farama de suflet de copil. Unde e curajul si loialitatea? Unde e onoarea? Unde sunt toate cele care iti inalta spiritul si te fac fericit? Vezi tu, draga hartie, fericirea nu consta decat in a-ti atinge scopul... ce scop aveam eu? Nu stiu, nu mai stiu nimic...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;As vrea sa mor. Stii cum e sa mori hartie? Sa ti se duca si ultima bucatica de rabdare, ultimul simt, ultima vointa... nu mai am de ce, pentru ce, cand...nu stiu doar o minune m-ar mai putea salva in aceasta zi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Stii am intalnit o persoana minunata. Cum mergeam aiurea pe strada in acea zi, m-a oprit.. mi-a dat o floare si un zambet si ce e mai important mi-a dat speranta. Si un motiv de a trai. Si suflet, cred ca mi-a dat si o bucatica de suflet de la el. Nu stiu, n-am mai simtit asa ceva si tocmai era sa pierd totul... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(p.s. aiureli pe hartie-jurnalul unei fete)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-6811611785757449927?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/6811611785757449927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=6811611785757449927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6811611785757449927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/6811611785757449927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/03/aiureli-pe-hartie.html' title='Aiureli pe hartie'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-68617788682672958</id><published>2007-03-29T18:41:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T18:52:41.122+03:00</updated><title type='text'>hmm</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Invartindu-ma pe ici pe colea, printre bloguri (am si eu preferatele mele, nu orice cade la indemana merita sa citesti), am gasit something.. intr-un ziar londonez (de fapt e revista,sorry) cineva (o doamna) primeste bani pentru ca isi dezvaluie viata. O desface in fasii pe care le pune in acea revista... Nu, sa nu intelegeti gresit, nu isi arata sufletul pentru bani, si-l arata asa cum fac si multi altii intr-un blog, pentru a scrie, pentru a analiza, pentru a se descarca... si mai stiu eu pentru ce alte motive personale. Partea interesanta e ca ia si lire pt aceasta treaba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De o bucata de vreme am vise ciudate (again). Si surprinzatoare. Si dispozitii schimbatoare. Si poate tanjesc dupa ce au altii... poate altii tanjesc dupa ce am eu, e un cerc vicios in care nimeni nu e multumit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I really felt misserable when I saw a movie (I won't say what movie). Because it reminded me about someone, and the actor was so cute, and looked so puzzled with big eyes (puppy)... And the smile... oh, I remembered that smile, I used to light up when he was smilling, with those beautifull lips, and beautifull chin, and beatifull eyes. And I had tears in my eyes because I remembered how I hoped that he will be mine, and how I made plans and in the end... in the end it doesn't even matter... (p.s. I don't need comments about my feeling or my english).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uno más?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-68617788682672958?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/68617788682672958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/68617788682672958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/03/hmm.html' title='hmm'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8884395373109937526</id><published>2007-03-22T13:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T13:38:45.138+02:00</updated><title type='text'>De scris sau de citit</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am vrut prima data sa scriu ceva despre 8 martie. Despre acea zi anosta, cu increngaturi de intamplari si de sentimente...ale mele. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Apoi am vrut sa scriu despre barbati si despre o zi a lor. Apoi ... despre Pasti. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Dar am ajuns sa citesc. Un blog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Mi-a lasat un gust amar, majoritatea celor care ar citi ar avea aceeasi senzatie. Dar la mine a fost la dublu. Triplata chiar. A picat la fix peste starea aiurea, melancolica si melodramatica pe care o aveam. Mi-a zgariat inima... nu doar povestea ci si comentariile. Sunt o fiinta prea sensibila uneori. Dar ce pot face daca tin cu dintii la anumite...protocoale? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Sunt amara pentru ca postul mi-a starnit regrete, durere, amintiri.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Sunt amara pentru ca am fost uitata...sau si mai rau am intrat in partea cu indiferenta. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Sunt amara pentru tot ce am fost si ce nu am fost...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Nu ma cautati, am plecat in lumea viselor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-8884395373109937526?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8884395373109937526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8884395373109937526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/03/de-scris-sau-de-citit.html' title='De scris sau de citit'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8747965130539443724</id><published>2007-02-16T10:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T10:46:07.868+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Buna dimineata...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;... ce frumoasa-i viata...daca vrei sa stii aseara te-am inselat...&lt;br /&gt;As vrea sa pot sa fac asta. Nu, nu spusul e o problema, ci inselatul. As vrea sa dau un sms care intr-adevar sa reflecte realitatea nu doar rautatea mea. Sa pot. Sa vreau. Sa nu am constiinta, sentimente, remuscari si etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buna dimineata.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-8747965130539443724?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8747965130539443724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8747965130539443724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/02/buna-dimineata.html' title='Buna dimineata...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-7547804964692879476</id><published>2007-02-14T18:25:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T15:01:45.428+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it wrong?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Is it wrong to have made no plans for Valentine's Day, and be happy with that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nu, chiar deloc. Sarbatoare pe care multi o numesc imprumutata (iar si mai multi o sarbatoresc). Plictisitoare.Falsa. Un motiv de cheltuit bani si energie. Nu stiu ce s-ar mai putea sarbatori cand s-au scris sute... mii de cuvinte de dragoste si au curs rauri de cerneala... ce ar putea aduce nou si proaspat aceasta "sarbatoare"? Sentimente de dragoste exprimate prin mesaje de pe ursuleti de plus? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Azi pe o trecere de pietoni... ea plangea cu hohote, el zise "s-a terminat". Ajunsa pe marginea opusa m-am intors si m-am uitat si eu ... macar tipu n-a tinut cont ca e "ziua indragostitilor". Dar de unde si pana unde bocete...?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mi-e dor sa citesc o scrisoare de mana. Nu de dragoste, o scrisoare de orice fel, sa deschid un plic cu emotie, sa astept un raspuns patru zile... sa primesc felicitari. Sa astern gandurile pe hartie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RdSRxfF3ZwI/AAAAAAAAAAU/9dp6q5hc228/s1600-h/1566.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031806963025405698" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RdSRxfF3ZwI/AAAAAAAAAAU/9dp6q5hc228/s200/1566.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dupa ziua de azi... citez: "am praf de pusca in vene" . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-7547804964692879476?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7547804964692879476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/7547804964692879476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/01/is-it-wrong.html' title='Is it wrong?'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aoRr2hITxSk/RdSRxfF3ZwI/AAAAAAAAAAU/9dp6q5hc228/s72-c/1566.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-2126155752130398708</id><published>2007-02-05T18:10:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T18:16:58.663+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmmmm...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Asa, impinge-ma... vrei sa ma ranesti? Arunca-mi vorbele muscatoare in fata. Sunt asa si pe dincolo... sunt si? Sau poate nu, oricum nu-ti pasa. Spui si spui si spui... ma intreb daca o sa termini vreodata cu improscatul de venin. Si mai spui de familie... HA! O minciuna... imi vine sa iti rup beregata cu dintii, si teme-te ca ziua aia o sa vina vreodata... Isterie... sa stii ca-mi place, poate sunt masochista. Spune spune, o sa ma simt mai bine dupa aceea. Am sa te privesc zambind ironic, poate putin si smechereste, numai sa demonstrez ca pot. Te indoiesti de mine? Poti sa torni otrava in vene, sa stii ca la mine nu are efect... eu sunt cea otravitoare. Incearca, te provoc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-2126155752130398708?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2126155752130398708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/2126155752130398708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/02/hmmmm.html' title='Hmmmm...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-4702727341798742397</id><published>2007-01-31T10:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T10:24:29.463+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ninsoare</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A nins ieri. Ninsoare cu fulgi mici si desi. O ninsoare ca intr-o poveste de Craciun,se asternea incet-incet. Am vrut sa fie cineva langa mine. Sa mai uit din ninsorile anilor trecuti, sa ma bucur de noul an, de noua speranta… dar in special sa uit. Sa nu mai stiu de alta zapada,de alte ierni, de alte persoane, de altceva... Sa nu ma mai amarasca zilele trecute, sa nu imi mai simt sufletul inghetat, sa nu mai am nevoie de nopti la tv cu ciocolata aferenta de rontait.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Sunt bine. Cum nu se poate mai bine zau.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-4702727341798742397?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4702727341798742397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/4702727341798742397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/01/ninsoare.html' title='Ninsoare'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-1509564547129455621</id><published>2007-01-06T11:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-06T11:46:44.825+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sa-ti spun ca esti imbatranit?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am privit ochii tai si mi-a parut ca ai inecat in ei multe frumuseti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am privit inima ta si mi-a parut ca si-a pierdut caldura sentimentelor alese.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am privit mintea ta si mi-a parut ca ai gatit in ea multe idealuri inalte.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Este ceva trait in tine si cand ma apropiu simt o atmosfera de arhiva inutila pe care nu o mai cunosc decat sobolanii si nu o mai imbraca decat colbul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Poate demult ai imbatranit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Esti batran atunci cand privesti mai mult in trecut decat in viitor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Esti batran cand incepi sa ai amintiri mai mult decat planuri.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Esti batran cand te simti incarcat de lucruri trecute, cand gusti povara pacatelor sau mostenirea placerilor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Esti batran cand trecutul are mai mare glas in tine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Esti batran cand viata iti pare sura, mohorata si fara rost.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Esti batran cand incepi sa te plictisesti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Esti batran cand nu mai stii de ce trebuie sa traiesti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Esti batran cand ai trebuinta de exitari,de senzatii tari ca sa simti ca traiesti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Esti batran cand in loc de entuziasm inima ta cunoaste frigul,indiferenta,spaima.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-1509564547129455621?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/1509564547129455621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=1509564547129455621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1509564547129455621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/1509564547129455621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/01/sa-ti-spun-ca-esti-imbatranit.html' title='Sa-ti spun ca esti imbatranit?'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-8980410610656626864</id><published>2007-01-05T09:35:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-05T09:44:58.543+02:00</updated><title type='text'>S-a nascut...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;..astazi. In urma cu cativa ani bineinteles.Dar era ziua de 5 ianuarie. S-a nascut dupa o noapte in care mama a petrecut si a mancat bucate de toate soiurile. S-a nascut intr-o zi de post... o fi fost facuta tot intr-o zi de post,cine stie? A vazut lumina zilei (de fapt serii) la ora 7 P.M.,dupa o zi de chinuri. Era frig rau,zapada,nametsi,ger de-a binelea... asa ca n-a scos nasul pana seara. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Deja a imbatranit...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-8980410610656626864?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/8980410610656626864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=8980410610656626864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8980410610656626864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/8980410610656626864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2007/01/s-nascut.html' title='S-a nascut...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-5989844249080185676</id><published>2006-12-23T09:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-01-05T09:34:42.130+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sarbatori fericite...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;... si la multi ani! Sa ai un an nou excelent, plin de reusite si sperante, de vise implinite... sa ai parte de sex,bani,prieteni adevarati (daca mai crezi in asa ceva),sanatate si toate cele bune.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-5989844249080185676?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/5989844249080185676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=5989844249080185676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5989844249080185676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/5989844249080185676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/12/sarbatori-fericite.html' title='Sarbatori fericite...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-116426698981063444</id><published>2006-11-23T09:23:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-11-23T09:29:49.870+02:00</updated><title type='text'>O blonda...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;... in autobuz. In autobuzul cu care mergeam eu. De fapt am observat-o din statie: micuta, putin grasunica, cu un ten curat, buze date cu un ruj maroniu , ochi creionati cu negru, par saten spre blond (natural) cu suvite- prins bretonul la spate cu o clamita. Avea ochi albastri, tot machiajul o avantaja si ii scotea in evidenta frumusetea ochilor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-Ti-am spus eu ca asa e? zise ea la un moment dat interlocutorului (un baietan mai inalt un pic ca mine). Si ochii ii erau zglobii, ma asteptam sa inceapa sa topaie. N-a sarit in sus, dar ochii ei albastri erau minunati in momentul ala. Si apoi s-a urcat in autobuz, alaturi de el. Nu stiu ce au vorbit, nu stiu daca ea se astepta sa o placa sau avea alte asteptari... dar cand am coborat nu mai era frumoasa, nu mai era copil. Avea o fata de femeie obosita de treburi, poate si plictisita. Si ochii ei era stinsi. Si am lasat o blonda stearsa in autobuz...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-116426698981063444?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/116426698981063444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=116426698981063444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/116426698981063444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/116426698981063444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/11/o-blonda.html' title='O blonda...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-116108145480553273</id><published>2006-10-17T13:23:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T13:37:34.816+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Mijloace de trasport si...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;... personaje. Am luat-o razna cand am aflat ca nu mai circula vreo doua maxi-taxi. In special pentru ca mie imi erau foarte folositoare si faptul ca trebuia sa merg pana in statie la autobuz nu ma incanta deloc. In plus, in maxi puteam observa mai bine anumite personaje...spatiul mic iti lasa loc de studiu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; De exemplu aveam un tip care lua 11 de undeva de mai sus de statia mea si cobora mai departe... inalt, da' inalt nene, de nu incapea sa stea drept . Si blond. Semana la fizionomia fetei cu tipu' blond de la Akcent (sa nu ma intrebati cum il cheama, ca nu stiu). Bineinteles ca nu l-am mai nimerit, eu nu mai am treaba cu traseul ala, el n-are treaba cu al meu...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Am regasit in autobuz pe tinerelul insurat. Tinerel se cunostea pe fata lui, dragut, slabut si mereu imbracat la costum si cu servieta. Mai nou si cu geaca de piele. Si cu verigheta pe mana.Serios,de parca i se ineaca corabiile. Si poate putin rece, cu un fel de rictus in coltul gurii.O fi nefericit? Urca de la statia mea, coboara mai devreme...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Si unde coboara el, urca o pereche, in care il remarcam pe sot mereu primul. Si astazi i-am regasit in autobuz. Sunt trecuti de tinerete, dar totusi nu prea batrani, asa ca la vreo 40 de ani. Ea e mai mica decat mine ca inaltime, grasuta, satena, mereu machiata cu creion negru la ochi. Stearsa as spune eu. El e mai inalt, bine legat, frumos ca un brad cum ar spune matusa mea. Cu ochelari. Si are o pata de par alb in fata, spre dreapta. Pata aia cred ca o observ prima :) Oricum, nu coboara odata cu mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; E lung drumul dimineata, trebuie sa mai observ si eu una-alta,nu?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-116108145480553273?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/116108145480553273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=116108145480553273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/116108145480553273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/116108145480553273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/10/mijloace-de-trasport-si.html' title='Mijloace de trasport si...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-116108045914278052</id><published>2006-10-16T13:12:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T13:22:29.493+03:00</updated><title type='text'>De dimineata</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Ma uitam la mosulica veteran cum povestea... avea 90 si ceva de ani. Si inca vesel, inca il tragea inima sa se plimbe prin mijloacele de transport, cu treaba bineinteles. Se misca greut, in baston . Ma facea sa ma gandesc la fraza aia stupida "tu te plimbi si moartea te cauta pe acasa". Oricum m-a intristat,in momente de astea ma cuprinde nostalgia, gandul celor care ar fi putut sa ajunga la o varsta cu mosul si n-au ajuns... sau cum voi fi eu daca ajung la varsta aia. Poate singura si parasita? Bineinteles ca ceva vesel nu-mi putea trece prin minte, doar am inclinatii spre masochism si tristete,melancolie si toata gama de sentimente intunecate .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-116108045914278052?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/116108045914278052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=116108045914278052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/116108045914278052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/116108045914278052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/10/de-dimineata.html' title='De dimineata'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-115886228663808412</id><published>2006-09-21T21:10:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T21:12:16.566+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Taramul viselor e al meu</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Deschid ochii, zambesc si tot corpul meu zambeste… se aude lambada «chorando estara ao lembrar de um amor »… o melodie de dragoste… Ma ridicai de pe blanurile ce acopereau patul. Mi-am privit pentru o clipa trupul in oglinda, apoi m-am imbracat cu rochia mea preferata si am iesit. Afara soarele isi arunca ultimele raze peste mare si nisip, se insera. Briza marii imi mangaia corpul si inima. Ma simteam atat de vesela si de impacata cu mine, cum nu fusesem de mult.Mi-am scos papucii, i-am luat in mana si am calcat pe nisipul caldut. Mergeam incet, sa simt intepaturile bucatilor de scoica si soarele ascuns in nisip. Am ajuns pana la marginea apei, mi-am lasat picioarele scaldate de valuri… toata plaja respira linistita, toata caldura adunata peste zi revenea in aer… vreme buna de iubit, mi-am zis in gand si am zambit. Am prins in maini vraja marii, am imbratisat vantul si am adormit in bratele nisipului…&lt;br /&gt;Deschid ochii si vad tavanul…e frumos, cu o inima roz inchis iesita in relief… si apoi e roz-bombon si ma bufneste rasul. Ma ridic si privesc camera… pare cunoscuta,dar de unde ? Imi plimb picioarele pe covorul moale, parca calc pe puful norilor. Urmaresc cu degetul conturul floricelelor de pe pereti… ma joc in aer, privesc lustra si zambesc… ar trebui sa ma simt regina ? Deschid geamul si respir adanc aerul de primavara… miroase a pamant ud, proaspat, a viorele… si a scoala. Nu stiu de ce mie primavara imi aduce aminte de scoala. Si copii grabiti. Si tinerete…&lt;br /&gt;Deschid ochii si imi trag mai bine plapuma peste mine. E cam frigut,din focul din semineu au ramas doar cativa carbuni aprinsi. Cobor din pat si pun cateva lemne.Privesc cum flacarile cresc si mistuie fibra lemnoasa. Ma imbrac bine, imi pun bocancii si ies… albul zapezii in lumina diminetii ma nauceste un pic.Clipesc de cateva ori sa imi revin, apoi imi iau avant, alerg cativa pasi, ma las pe spate sa pic pe spate in noianul de zapada si incep sa rad. Sunt un copilas, mirosul brazilor imi aduce aminte de cadouri si Craciun alaturi de cei dragi, de bunatati si de liniste.Si iarasi rad, ma ridic si incep sa topai prin omatul proaspat. Deschid ochii … o frunza rosiatica zboara aiurita prin camera, se aseaza pe covor. Copacul e frumos acum, atat de frumos… parca si-a pus mantia de gala. Pacat ca mantia e mancata de molii, cad fasii din ea. Ajunsa sub pom , iau o frunza in mana. Ii urmaresc vinisoarele si zambesc… la anul alta va fi in loc, iar copacul va primi iarasi chiriasi –pasarelele. Arunc frunza in aer, urmarind cum o poarta vantul, o rasuceste prin aer in incredibile acrobatii… si vantul se joaca si pe la mine prin suflet, rasucind o amintire… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-115886228663808412?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/115886228663808412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=115886228663808412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/115886228663808412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/115886228663808412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/09/taramul-viselor-e-al-meu.html' title='Taramul viselor e al meu'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-115340438597390708</id><published>2006-07-20T17:01:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T17:06:25.986+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Just...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;...like that. Ca orice jurnal care duce lipsa de un stapan cu imaginatie bogata (sau are prea multa,depinde de caz), intr-al meu mai apare scris cate ceva din an in Pasti. Nu ca ar fi viata mea asa de monotona , dar ...in sfarsit , nu mai sunt la nivelul ala de exaltare in fata unei pagini goale.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; In alta ordine de idei, toate's bune, totu' ie ok (mai mult sau mai putsin), nu am nika cu care sa ma laud (sunt modesta din fire) si nici nu mai bocesc (cel putsin momentan). Scurt, inchei raportul. Sa traiti (bine)!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-115340438597390708?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/115340438597390708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/115340438597390708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/07/just.html' title='Just...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-115220120196083388</id><published>2006-07-06T18:51:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T18:54:09.133+03:00</updated><title type='text'>cry baby cry</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;“Noi suntem bune de barfit, baut bere si sex”… si-am ras. A ras si el , nestiind cata durere era dincolo de fraza, nesimtind dincolo de monitor cum respiratia imi era sacadata, mai-mai sa plang. Nu vedea ranjetul meu cu colturile gurii in jos, nu credea ca sunt ironica, de o ironie muscatoare si dureroasa.&lt;br /&gt;Fetele… fetitele… copilasi,nebuni si aiuriti.Ne iubeste pentru ca suntem nebune si aiurite… dar e doar o fatada, noi suntem triste, melancolice si neintelese… neiubite asa cum ne dorim. Din vina cui ? Din vina noastra… asta am cerut, asta primim. Si atunci de ce doare? De ce ne racaie gheara sufletul ?De ce suntem geloase si posesive ? Nu stim… Poate e o problema in a aprecia ceea ce avem la un moment dat si dupa ce pierdem ne pare rau. Poate nu stim sa ne bucuram de clipe, sa le pretuim, sa le traim la intensitate maxima si sa nu ne gandim deloc la consecinte,sa nu judecam fiecare gest de zeci de ori.&lt;br /&gt;Aceeasi nesiguranta isi face aparitia in suflet, nesiguranta pe care am invatat sa o recunoastem prea bine si ne e ciuda…ne e tare ciuda pe noi si pe restul… pe noi ca suntem slabe de inger, pe altii ca nu ne scutura putin sa ne revenim…&lt;br /&gt;Cry baby, cry…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-115220120196083388?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/115220120196083388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=115220120196083388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/115220120196083388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/115220120196083388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/07/cry-baby-cry.html' title='cry baby cry'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-115009883332862905</id><published>2006-06-12T10:52:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T10:53:53.366+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Puzzle=eu</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sa ma trezesc dimineata alaturi de el. Sa ma tina in brate,sa stiu ca e al meu,ca ma apreciaza pentru ce sunt si pentru ce nu sunt…sa am siguranta ca nu va fugi, ca nu ma voi trezi singura si parasita,ca nu voi plange dimineata, ca nu voi pleca de acasa cu capul in jos si infranta…&lt;br /&gt; Prostii. Am crezut ca pot cumpara fericirea…am cumparat iluzii. Am crezut ca pot sa joc teatru, dar tot timpul ma minteam pe mine.Am crezut ca voi ajunge sa fiu multumita cu ce am, daca am,dar nu e de mine.&lt;br /&gt; Sunt un specimen recunosc.Nelamurita,neinteleasa,poate putin si cu aere de actrita de tragedii.&lt;br /&gt; Analizele astea ma scot din minti.O iau razna, incet dar sigur. Mi-a spus mie cineva odata "gandesti prea mult". Nu stiu sa traiesc.Nu stiu sa profit de ce se poate, de oameni,de viata, de vreme, de soare si de oameni iarasi.&lt;br /&gt; E totusi devreme. E dimineata in viata mea si afara. Si totusi… gandurile mele iar se incalcesc, se izbesc , se resping, se bat. Mi-am gresit viata, trebuia sa fiu Xena, printesa razboinica.&lt;br /&gt; Bucati,bucati,bucatele… Am fost la aer destul de mult in ultima vreme. Am gasit o multime de personaje,unele interesante, unele de neinteles si altele enervante de-a binelea.Stiu, stiu, asa mi se intampla mie de obicei, devine un cliseu iar eu devin previzibila. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Bucati de puzzle… greu de pus cap la cap, greu de potrivit si de vazut imaginea de ansamblu. Si totusi cine o vede ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-115009883332862905?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/115009883332862905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/115009883332862905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/06/puzzleeu.html' title='Puzzle=eu'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-114932902694669931</id><published>2006-05-31T13:00:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-07-03T17:29:24.876+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Copilarii...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Soare,soare...Avion cu motor, ia-mă şi pe mine-n zbor....Ţară ţară vrem ostaşi!... Pe cineeeee??Copii râzând. Clopoţei şi clinchete e râsul lor.Ea e tristă în schimb.Se uită de pe bancă cu un zâmbet strâmb şi amar la nevinovaţia lor.Poate şi cu puţină nostalgie.S-a ridicat, rupând în neştire o frunză din copacul de deasupra şi o mestecă.Închise ochii şi pielea ochilor se înrozi şi se încălzi...mai privi o dată copiii apoi porni uşor spre casă.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Urcă pe scări, simţind că cele două etaje s-au transformat în 20.Deschise uşa cu mâini tremurânde şi o încuie după ea.Se lipi cu spatele de uşă ,cu ochii închişi şi începu să respire adânc...printre gene zări apartamentul micuţ: o floare mare într-un ghiveci în colţ... un şifonier roşcovan...măsuţă cu televizor...fotoliile şi colţarul...pereţii crem şi veioza...Se simţi în siguranţă.Intră în baie, îşi dădu cu apă pe faţă şi se uită în oglindă Ochii mari aveau cearcăne, părul era zburlit iar toată fiinţa ei trăda oboseala.Rânji cu superficialitate la oglindă ."Te urăsc" şopti ea."te urăsc, te urăsc, te urăsc..." şi lacrimile începură să cadă pe obrajii livizi. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Îşi puse pe reşou un ibric pentru cafea, privind la sârmele roşiatice.Când apa începu să fiabă adaugă cafeaua."Fără zahăr, trebuie să fie amară, trebuie să rămân trează. A câta cafea o fi oare?" Colţarul o ademenea... era moale, atât de moale...ca braţele lui.Ca braţele ce au fost alături de ea ani buni, împreună cu stăpânul lor.Stăpânul lor...cu ochi negri, mai negri decât întunericul nopţii.Cu buze dulci, mai dulci decât şerbetul.Cu sufletul cald şi liniştitor ca al vântului ce aduce primăvara.Cel care a murit şi totul s-a năruit într-o clipă.A adormit plângând.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Erau trei sori roşcaţi ce îşi aruncau lumina asupra unui teren pavat cu piatră cubică, întins cât vedea cu ochii.Nimic înainte, nimic înapoi,doar piatră cubică.Se uită spre papuci şi văzu că sunt roşii.Şi rochiţa îi era roşie, mică ca de copil.Îşi scutură capul a uimire şi părul lung până la fund îi foşni şi se undui.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nu prea avea importanţă unde se afla.Dar fiindcă era om şi oamenii în general caută un punct de orientare (instinct de supravieţuire să spunem), îşi îndreptă ochii spre soarele din stânga."Aş vrea... să ajung până sub soare".Aripi începură să crească din umeri, mari,albe şi grele.Îşi luă avânt spre înălţime, dar căzu imediat, rănindu-se la genunchi -încă nu ştia să zboare.Se ridică scâncind şi porni pe jos spre soare, peste pavajul fără sfârşit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nu stia cât a trecut.O oră,o zi, o săptămână.La un moment dat se opri şi o cuprinse tristeţea.Se aşeza jos şi începu să plângă şi lacrimile căzură pe pietre.În locul în care căzu prima lacrimă răsări o mlădiţă de copac...şi mlădiţa creştea cu fiecare lacrimă.A crescut, încât atunci când fata se opri din plâns, copacul părea că atinge bolta cerească cu ramurile lui.Fata zâmbi."Poate de acolo îmi pot desface aripile să zbor" îşi şopti ea. Şi începu să se caţere, întâi încet, apoi cu mai multă forţa, până ajunse în vârf. Îşi ridică ochii spre cer, apoi privi spre golul de sub ea. Îşi desfăcu braţele şi aripile se întinseră albe şi graţioase.Respiră adânc şi îşi dădu drumul în gol...simţind cum lumina soarelui se apropie de ea, devine galbenă...apoi albă...cuprinzând-o,îmbrăţişând-o, încălzindu-i sufletul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se trezi zâmbind şi împăcată cu ea.Îşi scutură părul tuns scurt şi un puf se desprinse, plutind uşor până pe covor.Privi spre fereastră şi soarele încălzea copacii şi natura ieşita din iarnă.Şi copii se jucau...şi glasurile lor sunau ca nişte clopoţei .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-114932902694669931?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/114932902694669931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=114932902694669931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114932902694669931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114932902694669931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/05/copilarii.html' title='Copilarii...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-114655840223448086</id><published>2006-05-02T11:25:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T11:26:42.246+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Meditez....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Pană de curent. "Dar tu Cristina? Rămâi singurică? Ce faci aici? " -"Meditez" răspunsei eu "şi-mi hrănesc fazanii"-continuai în gând (recunosc replica nu e originală, respecte autorului).  Pentru prima oară sunetul ploii nu mi se pare că are o notă depresivă. E melodios, cântă în ritmul meu,  îngânându-mă,  simţind cântecul ce îl fredonez. La fabrica de peste drum este lumină (vezi. . . ei sunt racordaţi altfel la reţea) şi un bec îşi aruncă waţii prin fereastră. Au apărut tot felul de umbre şi pete... Cine zice că întunericul nu are frumuseţea lui?    Îmi pare rău că nu am o lumânare,  să o aprind,  să urmăresc cum flacăra îşi ia avânt,  apoi coboară încet schimbând peisajele,  stingându-se,  zbătându-se, murind.   Raţele din tablou se uită blând la mine. Le întind o bucată de turtă şi ele îşi fâlfâie uşor aripile în semn de mulţumire. Zâmbesc. Lumina asta difuză le pune în evidenţă culorile,  le face minunate, sclipitoare, desprinse din cărţile de poveşti.  "E târziu"-le şoptesc- "cred că ar trebui să vă pregatiţi de culcare". Ele dau din cap usor, îşi scutură şi îşi înfoaie penele,  apoi pun capul sub aripă. . .   Mi se facu sete. Mă ridic şi dau drumul la apă,  îmi umplu o cană. Iar gustul apei de robinet a dispărut,  în loc cred că am băut apă vie.   Dar lumina revine,  televizorul porneşte.... raţele mele stau cu aripile întinse, nemişcate iar culorile şi viaţa au dispărut. Umbrele au fugit să se ascundă prin colţuri dar nici acolo nu au scăpare de becul de 100 W.  Iar ploaia a pierdut ritmul,  îmi şopteşte numele cu tristeţe, apoi începe să cânte în altă limbă,  poate la alte geamuri.  Pentru mine a terminat. . .   Eu am rămas pe scaun, dorindu-mi întunericul din jur pentru lumina dinăuntru&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-114655840223448086?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/114655840223448086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=114655840223448086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114655840223448086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114655840223448086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/05/meditez.html' title='Meditez....'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-114408519720653989</id><published>2006-04-03T13:25:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T16:07:40.296+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Actiune!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Şi actul final începe... lacrimi în colţul ochilor, un suspin din toată inima, o frază aruncată — „rămânem amici"...&lt;br /&gt;Acum, când analizezi, totul e fals. Lacrimile au fost puse acolo de regizor, suspinul a fost mai mult o respirare adâncă, fraza e acolo doar de decor. Iar dacă eşti chiar foarte atent, poţi zări (în ciuda reflectoarelor) oamenii din spatele scenei. Şi realizezi că totuşi nu e decât un joc, în care cel mai bun nu îşi face niciodata griji.&lt;br /&gt; Am fost la plimbare zilele astea. S-a încălzit afară şi implicit eu mi-am recăpătat ceva din tinereţe (ya, I feel old :P ).Lumea se plimba în jos şi în sus pe bulevarde, respirând aerul de primăvară şi bucurându-se de gradele cu plus. M-am oprit cu o amică la o cafea... şi ea (îndrăgostită) mi-a povestit de câte ori, când şi cum l-a văzut...&lt;br /&gt; Oare aşa fac şi eu? Nu mi-am dat seama până acum cât de ...cicălitoare poate deveni o femeie. Mai-mai să îmi stârnească un val de compasiune pentru bărbaţi.&lt;br /&gt;O altă despărţire se transformă într-un adevărat teatru şi îmi provoacă dureri de cap. Personajele principale m-au găsit tocmai pe mine intermediar, poziţie pe care nu o apreciez deloc. El are reproşuri, ea are reproşuri... dacă nu m-ar sâcâi pe mine, mi s-ar părea chiar comice. Unele chiar sunt absurde, altele au o logică ca aceea a lui Păcală... sau nu au logică deloc. Nostim.&lt;br /&gt; Am auzit pe stradă... "mi-ai şters".."nu ţi-am sters nimic, eu când îţi umblu pe telefon mă uit numai la mesaje"... şi discuţia continuă aprinsă între un băiat şi o fată. Pe mine mă bufnea râsul... îmi venea să mă întorc şi să fac pe consilieru’: "nu vă certaţi pe stradă...poate nu a şters ea... iar tu de ce umbli pe telefonul lui?"... cred că le-aş fi dat un motiv de a-şi redirecţiona furia (sau frustrările) asupra mea. Mă întreb dacă ar fi fost mai fericiţi, găsind alt cal de bătaie.&lt;br /&gt; Cine mai are nevoie de tv sau de teatru? E de ajuns să stau pe o bancă în parc şi deja piesele se dezvăluie. E mult mai bine dacă doar le priveşti şi să nu participi activ ca actor.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-114408519720653989?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/114408519720653989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=114408519720653989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114408519720653989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114408519720653989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/04/actiune_03.html' title='Actiune!'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-114344886899825949</id><published>2006-03-27T11:34:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T11:41:09.010+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Eh...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mi s-a spus ca inainte cu vreo cativa ani (vreo 4 mai exact) traiam. Nu, nici acu nu's fantoma, dar cica eram mai plina de viata. Apoi, draga domnule, omu mai imbatraneste... Eu in special ma uzai repejor.Dapoi ci sa fac acu? Sa reiau activitatile de pe atunci? nu prea se poate. Sa visez cu ochii deschisi? Nu cred ca se cuvine pentru o domnisoara (:P).Sa sper ca va ploua din cer cu cristei fripti? imposibil.Sperantele se dimineaza considerabil odata cu inaintarea in varsta. Omul devine mai constient de lumea din jur si mai apasat de probleme.Mno, da' tot pot sa sper ca voi deveni o "mare lady" .Nu's pierduta de tot :)&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/18271628-114344886899825949?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/114344886899825949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=114344886899825949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114344886899825949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114344886899825949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/03/eh.html' title='Eh...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-114234346016592859</id><published>2006-03-14T15:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T15:37:40.200+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Deh deh</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Imi aduc aminte de o zicala, care sugera ca omul gandeste mai bine cu burta plina. Atunci cand te copleseste senzatia de bine, de implinire a unui gol (cel din burta fiind destul de important cateodata), nu prea cred ca iti mai arde de analize. Sau de ganduri marete. Cred ca atunci doar iti vine sa staaaaaai si sa admiri peisajul de afara. Asta atunci cand ai ce si cum admira.&lt;br /&gt;Aruncandu-mi ochii prin geam... observ ca vremea e neprietenoasa. Muscatoare de-a binelea.Imi ingheata sangele in vene numai la priveliste: oameni zgribuliti, gheata, turturi... aiurea. Nu e o vreme favorabila visatului cu ochi deschisi. Daca stau putin sa ma gandesc s-ar putea nici sa nu mai am la ce sa visez. Poate intr-adevar visele sunt pentru cei slabi.Cei puternici au planuri de actiune.&lt;br /&gt;Aaaah...si cum a fost ziua femeii... la multi ani si soare in suflet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-114234346016592859?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/114234346016592859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=114234346016592859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114234346016592859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114234346016592859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/03/deh-deh.html' title='Deh deh'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-114085999936286767</id><published>2006-02-25T11:30:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T11:33:19.376+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Muzica.Arta.Spectacol.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Toata sala a fost in picioare de la inceput pana la sfarsit...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Spectacolul a fost minunat.Nu multe lumini sau multe artificii... dar muzica este de calitate iar artistii chiar se pricep la ceea ce fac. Fiecare a avut momentul lui de glorie, in care si-au demonstrat talentul la instrumentul lor. Si intr-adevar au avut ce demonstra.Chitarile si tobele au sunat exceptional. Nu e doar rock, nu e doar zdranganit din instrumente... e muzica.E arta. E spectacol.&lt;br /&gt;Avea ochii stinsi si gri.Ca o cortina de fier ce nu lasau nici o raza de lumina sa strabata.Se spune ca ochii sunt oglinda sufletului...atunci si sufletul lui e gri. Nu se intrezarea nici un zambet, nici o emotie, nici macar o idee despre ce simte in momentul ala.Niste buze subtiri..un zambet tras cu linia as putea spune.Asa ca am tras concluzia ca nu mai simte nimic in afara de oboseala.Se perindau pe langa el fanii, el semna si tacea... sau mai spunea cate un "da" din cand in cand..M-am apropiat eu, am soptit incet numele, el a semnat...si atat. Asta mi-a aratat ca nu sunt cine stie ce specimene...sunt doar oameni cu talent.&lt;br /&gt;A meritat? Cu siguranta da.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-114085999936286767?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/114085999936286767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=114085999936286767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114085999936286767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114085999936286767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/02/muzicaartaspectacol.html' title='Muzica.Arta.Spectacol.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-114051392519805682</id><published>2006-02-21T11:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T11:25:25.213+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunt.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sunt un criminal.Calculez si planific tot,pana la cel mai mic detaliu.Privirea lor spune totul. Ochii sunt mari, plini de uimire si spaima, adrenalina si suferinta.Iar sangele se scurge din vene, odata cu viata... curge cald si rosu...&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o regina.Singura ,inconjurata de atatia oameni, dar atat de singura... Totul e atat de teapan,de rigid, de perfect, incat am obosit.Banii nu aduc fericirea.Am de toate, cu prisos chiar, dar cu ce folos? Sunt inchisa intr-o colivie cu gratii invizibile, dar care imi ranesc aripile cand vreau sa scap.&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un copil.Si ma bucur de viata in fiecare zi. Plang, suspin, rad,ma joc... iar timpul zboara, nu ma afecteaza trecerea lui. Nu stiu ce o sa fie maine, cum o sa ma joc sau daca o sa ma lovesc, dar nici nu imi fac eu griji de asta. Sunt atatea de descoperit...&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o pasare.Imi deschid aripile si imi iau avant spre inaltimi...soarele e fierbinte, as vrea sa ajung spre el, mai multa lumina,mai multa caldura...sa ma contopesc cu albastrul cerului, sa simt bataia vantului si libertate in suflet...De data asta nu trebuie sa cad,nu trebuie sa ma mai las coplesita de senzatie...&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un inger.Iubesc fara sa cer nimic in schimb,neconditionat...sunt plin de iubire, de lumina, imi doresc sa fac oameni fericiti.Si sa le dau tot ce am mai bun, doar pentru a intelege dragostea mea.&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o floare.Sensibila, ma nasc in primavara, imi desfac petalele spre soare si imi traiesc viata primind caldura si tot ce am nevoie de la mama natura. Si mor cand o mana se intinde si ma culege, spre a oferi cateva clipe de bucurie, sau cand vantul cel rece imi rupe firul vietii...&lt;br /&gt;Sunt un cal.Inhamat la a lor caruta, fara sanse de a scapa de povara, fara dorinta de a scapa... Asta stiu sa fac, pentru asta sunt nascut: a cara povara altora. Si viata imi trece facand acelasi lucru.Asta mi-e menirea.&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o complexa retea de sentimente, de dureri,bucurii,dragoste,povara,rautate... sunt o multitudine de idei, o reflexie a oamenilor din jur, o fire ce s-a dezvoltat sub influenta altora. Sunt om.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-114051392519805682?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/114051392519805682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=114051392519805682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114051392519805682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114051392519805682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/02/sunt.html' title='Sunt.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-114114059288929735</id><published>2006-02-20T17:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T17:29:52.890+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Copil...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sunt cu ea alaturi...eu pe scaun ,tastand, ea in carut-rozand o jucarie. O papusa vie, o fetita de aproape 6 luni, ce a dezvoltat in mine instincte pe care nu credeam ca le am.Cand a adus-o mama ei prima data acasa, mi se parea atat de urata... plangea, dormea, manca...avea ochii mici,nici nu ii zareai,pielea inchisa la culoare si atat era de mica... Apoi a crescut incet , incet, laptele pe care il papa a dat rezultate.&lt;br /&gt;Am tinut-o in brate cu teama la inceput, de parca s-ar fi putut sparge sau mi-ar fi putut aluneca printre degete,ca un pui de foca.Recunosc, nici nu stiam sa o tin bine.Dar mai apoi mi-am dezvoltat calitatile de mamica... chiar mi s-a spus "cand o sa il ai pe al tau, o sa stii deja de toate".&lt;br /&gt;Un sentiment de dragoste ma cuprinde cand ma uit la ea... as vrea si eu sa fiu mamica. Stiu ca e o responsabilitate imensa, e o faptura pe care trebuie sa o ingrijesti tot restul vietii. Dar e o dulce povara, o minune... dintr-un ovul micut creste o fiinta ...din corpul tau se hraneste, e o parte din tine, odata cu corpul tau iti dai si o parte din suflet.Si daca ai credinta si perseverenta se va transforma intr-o minunata faptura, un OM. E un drum lung , cu multe sacrificii...dar cred ca merita. Pentru ca anii trec in zbor iar copilul iti va da un sens in viata, un scop pentru care sa te zbati sa fie mai bine, un zambet pe fata in fiecare dimineata si bucurie in suflet cand il stii fericit.&lt;br /&gt;Citeam zilele trecute intr-o carte... spunea acolo ca bebelusii, pana pe la vreo 2 ani, pot respira si bea apa (ceai,lapte) in acelasi timp. Apoi laringele se subtiaza si dispare aceasta abilitate. Dar in schimb castiga glasul... laringele subtiat transforma sunetele in darul pe care nici un alt mamifer nu il are: vorbirea articulata. Si asa mica minune va putea sa spuna cuiva "te iubesc".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Mno, asa sunt femeile, mai sentimentale. Sau cel putin unele.Nimic ce nu se poate vindeca :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-114114059288929735?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114114059288929735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114114059288929735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/02/copil.html' title='Copil...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-114050808581582370</id><published>2006-02-20T09:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T09:48:05.826+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Jut like that...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So I did it. Damn ,it felt so good. He kissed every inch of my skin, he huged me and kept me close to his heart... I could die in those arms.I felt wonderfull, so loved and so peacefull..I know that I'm with my head in clouds, but for a while he was mine. Just mine. No other woman ,no other girl... just me. And that made me feel so precious, so wanted, so unique... I have no regrets.Well, maybe just one: that it didn't last longer... or forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;P.s. I don't need any comments about my dreams, feelings or my english.Thanks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-114050808581582370?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114050808581582370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114050808581582370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/02/jut-like-that.html' title='Jut like that...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-114114050717107703</id><published>2006-02-14T17:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T17:28:27.183+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Paralela.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Imi sta in caracter ca, dupa finalul unui an, sa socotesc ce a fost bun si rau, cum si in ce masura am facut bine sau gresit,unde m-am inmuiat si cat la suta din restul sentimentelor m-au incercat.Recunosc, de data asta am fost mai lenesa, iar rezultatul l-am calculat cu incetineala...dar in sfarsit il am.&lt;br /&gt;Am trait de toate si intens, la concluzia asta am ajuns. Si mai ales au fost zile in care credeam ca iubesc.Sau speram sa iubesc.Sau doream sa iubesc... Ma rog.&lt;br /&gt;De vreo doua zile imi suna in boxe cu predilectie o singura melodie ce imi da fiori..."mi-a dor de ochii tai, ce-au fost atat de rai...". Suna cunoscut? Acum problema e ca sunt in dilema... imi e dor de ochii albastri sau de ochii verzi?&lt;br /&gt;De cei albastri... o relatie cu salturi si emotii in fiecare zi. Si adeseori cu lacrimi ale mele. Dar ma simteam bine... ma pierdeam in albastrul lor, ma faceau sa cred ca sunt speciala. In fiecare seara mai aflam cate ceva, de fiecare data eram surprinsa de cate un amanunt, un gest micut, neobservabil sau neinsemnat pentru altii, dar special pentru mine. O privire care spunea multe... sau credeam eu ca spune multe. De fiecare data erau diferiti, asta era farmecul lor. Mereu gaseam ceva nou de explorat, imi captivau atentia. Prea mult, as putea acum adauga. L-am dorit pe stapanul lor.Mult, mult ,cu o pasiune de care nu ma credeam in stare.Si cand l-am avut, pasiunea in loc sa scada a crescut in intensitate. As fi facut aproape orice mi s-ar fi cerut, nu imi doream decat o mangaiere si o raza de iubire.Dar, in viata nu poti avea tot ce iti doresti si uneori te mai trezesti si cu surprize neplacute.Ce pot spune acum, dupa ce am analizat si am tras linia? Doar atat: pacat.&lt;br /&gt;De cei verzi... linistiti si calmi...senzatie care mi-o transmit si mie.Si copilarosi,dragastosi si alintati.Spre deosebire de cei dinainte, zilele cu ochii verzi trec cam la fel. Chiar daca intervine vreo schimbare in peisaj, trece neobservata, nici nu cred ca are importanta. De data asta ma simt rasfatata, linistita si impacata cu mine. Poate si putin mai melancolica,dar oricum nu mai plang. Iar pasiunea nu mai izbucneste ca un foc mistuitor, ci creste treptat in intensitate. Si trebuie sa recunosc ca imi vine greu sa imi analizez sentimentele, sa le disec si sa le intorc pe toate fetele, ca alta data.Ma simt bine si...oarecum multumita.&lt;br /&gt;Ce am trait cu unul, nu am trait cu altul. Ce m-a facut un unul sa simt, celalalt mi-a creat un sentiment opus... pe cat de singura m-am simtit cu cei albastri, pe atat de completa m-am simtit alaturi de cei verzi. Mi-e dor de amandoi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Sau mai bine... nu mi-e dor deloc.Life goes on .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-114114050717107703?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114114050717107703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/114114050717107703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/02/paralela.html' title='Paralela.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113965057725530866</id><published>2006-02-11T11:02:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T11:36:17.283+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Comparation...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;How could I do it? When one is so pasional, and the other one is so romantic... When one gave me all those pasional moments, and all those tears and the onther one gave me so much peace and attention... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; The problem is me. I don't know if I want a passional guy or a romantic one. Or both. I need some attention, but I also need a good fuck. Just like that.Not love making. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; I read something in a book. It sayed something like... "All women love semi-rape.  Maybe not all the time, but sometimes, once you’ve decided that you are going to have sex with someone, it really feels right to have him just take you.  Everything is out of your hands and you are just plain fucked." Love without passion it's just not enought ,I guess. I need sometimes that he just take my breath away... to feel that I can't say anything, to feel all those emotions overwhelming me, to know that I couldn't be there without him. Maybe I want to be close to death, close to the point when everything is so quite, and you are so peacefull... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Once upon a time I thought that I will meet the prince on the white horse and I will be happy ever-after. I guess live isn't that way. I'm not suprized or something, I'm just a lil' bit sad.Ussually people are sad when dreams not come true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; I grow up, my dreams changed, my life also changed (maybe more that I wished), but I still can't figure it out... if I'm happy or not, if I need something special, or just ordinary.I must get on the bottom of it.Fuckin' aye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;P.s. I don't need any comments about my dreams, feelings or my english.Thanks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113965057725530866?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113965057725530866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113965057725530866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/02/comparation.html' title='Comparation...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113862758171146254</id><published>2006-01-30T15:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T15:29:02.276+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Poveste 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Draga de ea...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A fost odata un marinar fara teama, cu o inima albastra pe bratul stang, o ancora albastra pe bratul drept si doua sirene albastre adormite pe piept.In tineretile sale colindase cele mai adanci mari si infruntase cele mai cumplite furtuni, dar acum ramase un mosnegut pe chei, care privea cu jale la vasele ce intrau si ieseau din port.&lt;br /&gt;Intr-o seara un murmur se porni printre oamenii de pe chei, in vreme ce un vas maiestos, cu o femeie de lemn incremenita la prora,intra in port:"Draga de ea, s-a intors Draga de ea". Inima mosnegutului incepu sa bata cu mai multa putere, pe puntea acestei corabii isi facuse el ucenicia ,sub indrumarea crudului capitan Barba Rosie.Corabia acosta si marinarii coborara sa isi ia provizii."Vino marinarul meu fara teama" auzi mosnegutul o voce suava soptind... Atunci el uita de toate si se strecura pe bordul vasului si se ascunse intr-un cotlon numai de el stiut.&lt;br /&gt;A doua zi dimineata corabia ridica ancora si isi continua drumul.Iar mosnegutul, imbatat de briza sarata si de leganatul valurilor, iesi din ascunzatoarea lui tipand: "la franghii marinari!hei-rup!". Marinarii se uitara uimiti la el, iar capitanul se apropie de el.Atunci mosnegutul isi dadu seama unde este si se facu mic, mic... "Peste bord cu el.Nu dorim calatori clandestini la bord" -spuse capitanul. "Stati"-se auze o voce suava de femeie, "cine indrazneste sa puna mana pe marinarul meu fara teama?". "E Draga de ea, vorbeste Draga de ea"-murmurau marinarii."Niciodata nu i-am auzit vocea"-sopti un matelot tinerel.Capitanul se uita la marinar, apoi spuse "ramai". "Multumesc corabie draga" murmura marinarul fara teama.Multe zile trecura, vasul plutea maiestos, iar mosnegutul nu pleca de pe punte, parca mai in putere ca niciodata.&lt;br /&gt;Intr-o zi o furtuna naprasnica se starni.Marea isi trimitea bratele si o lovea din toate partile pe Draga de ea, iar vantul sufla cu putere.Capitanul si toti marinarii se ascunsera,caci furtuna ca asta nu vazusera niciodata.Numai mosnegutul ramase pe punte si o ajuta pe Draga. Marea spumega si radea "am sa te scufund !!" si iti trimitea brat dupa brat, val dupa val, izbind-o cu putere. "Vai, auzi ce zice?"-se speria Draga de ea. "Nu te teme corabie draga, am trecut noi si prin furtuni mai rele decat asta"- o imbarbata marinarul fara teama.Deodata marea isi trimise un brat si ii rupse catargul."Nu-i nimic, nu-i nimic, putem naviga si fara catarg" spunea mosnegutul.Apoi marea o mai izbi si ii rupse si carma. "vai"-tipa draga de ea. "nu-i nimic, nu-i nimic, reusim noi sa navigam si fara carma".O corabie fara carma, cine a mai vazut? Si marea radea rautacioasa. Dar mosnegutul nu o lasa si incepu sa vorbeasca cu Draga de ea."Hai corabie draga, ia-o usurel la stanga...asaaaa, acum ocoleste valul ala, putin la dreapta, foarte bine.Iesim noi si din beleaua asta", iar Draga il asculta. Marea degeaba se enerva ,degeaba trimitea valurile pana cand a obosit, nu putea scufunda corabia.Si marea s-a linistit, s-a culcat cuminte pe nisipul cel auriu, iar vantul a imprastiat si ultimii nori, lasand un cer curat in urma.Cand s-a uitat marinarul erau pe o mare plina de bobite verzi,ce fosneau ca o padure.Iar din ascunzatorile navei incepura sa iasa mosnegi, cu barbi lungi si haine de marinari vrafuite. Si cu cat inaintea vasul pe mare cu atat mosnegeii imbatraneau mai mult."Draga, dar unde suntem?" "Asta e marea de lacrimi"-sopti Draga, "toate lacrimile planse de oameni de-a lungul timpului s-au adunat aici".Si atunci mosnegutul intelese.Ceilalti batranei erau capitanul si marinarii cu care pornise la drum, dar lacrimile lumii ii imbatraneau."Hai sa plecam de pe aceasta mare, ca ne mor tovarasii cu zile".Iar Draga se lasa pe o parte , sa isi ia avant pentru saritura.Dar atunci toti marinarii alunecara, nu mai aveau putere sa se tina pe punte, si ii inghiti marea de lacrimi.Iar corabia ,dintr-o saritura, ajunse pe o alta mare.O mare cu petale de trandafir."Scalda-te in marea asta, marinarul meu fara teama"-sopti Draga, iar mosnegutul nu statu mult pe ganduri si sari printre petale.Si inota sapte zile si sapte nopti, ca sapte clipe.Iar cand se urca pe punte, era tanar ca atunci cand isi incepuse ucenicia."Doamne corabie draga, parca mi-au sarit anii din spate"-spuse el. Nu aveau oglinda sa vada ca intr-adevar era tanar, iar ancora,inima si sirenele albastre straluceau in bataia soarelui.Corabia se apleca iar pe o parte, isi lua vant si ajunse pe alta mare.O mare in care nici un peste nu inota, o mare ruginie, marea moarta. "Nu te teme marinarul meu"-sopti Draga si incepu sa se scufunde incet.O viata intreaga se ferise marinarul de asemenea moment si iaca, acum ajunse sa se scufunde de buna voie.Ajunsa pe fund corabia se dadu de 3 ori peste cap si se transforma intr-o femeie stravezie, aidoma celei de la prora."S-a intos Draga de ea" se auzira voci si fura inconjurati de zeci de oameni stravezii, care se bucurau."Acesta este poporul meu"-spuse ea-"noi,oamenii stravezii, ne transformam in materialul langa care suntem pusi.Pusi langa piatra ne prefacem in piatra-statui.Intr-o zi stateam pe un val,la soare, cand capitanul Barba Rosie m-a prins si m-a legat la prora vasului, iar eu m-am transformat in lemn.Acum insa sunt acasa".Oamenii stravezii incepura sa cante din scoici, iar pestii roiau in jurul lor.Draga il lua pe marinar de mana si il conduse la un palat de clestar, unde erau doua tronuri de aur.Pe unul se aseza ea, pe celalalt il aseza pe marinar, si domnira peste poporul straveziu.Iar daca nu au murit, cu siguranta mai traiesc si astazi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113862758171146254?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/113862758171146254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=113862758171146254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113862758171146254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113862758171146254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/01/poveste-2.html' title='Poveste 2'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113758060318287631</id><published>2006-01-10T12:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T13:34:12.086+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Well :D</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Au trecut sarbatorile cu miros de mancare si zgomote de covoare scuturate,zurgalai si petarde.Partea buna a sarbatorilor: am fost scutita de falsitate si zambete trase cu linia.Revelionul a fost intr-un cadru restrans si placut. Partea proasta: sunt in noul an mai epuizata fizic si psihic decat in celalalt.Cuvantul care imi vine in minte e "sec".Asa ma simt , ca o nuca ce suna a gol.&lt;br /&gt;Am revazut pe cateva persoane in noul an. Si m-a durut.Atat de tare incat era sa imi dea lacrimile. Trecutul nu trece atat de usor pe cat am crezut. Inca mai am doruri nealinate, inca mai am vise si ganduri razlete. Pacat ca nu pot fi "back and bad"... :))&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113758060318287631?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/113758060318287631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=113758060318287631' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113758060318287631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113758060318287631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/01/well-d.html' title='Well :D'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113690323708434216</id><published>2006-01-10T10:00:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T16:26:59.350+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Tristete</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;O zi normala ca inceput. Poate prea normala... aceeasi munca mecanica,gesturi si cifre invatate pe de rost de acum.Si citeam o carte..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Apoi m-a cuprins tristetea.Gura mi s-a uscat si inghiteam in sec... nu stiu de unde venea atata tristete. Iubesc oamenii si viata, pasarile si soarele, pamantul si copacii. Si in secunda aia am simtit ca pierd tot. Ca oamenii la care tin dispar in ceata... ce trist este sa traiesti singur, cata frustare, cata singuritate, cate lacrimi...Cata falsitate la oameni, fatarnicie si mandrie prosteasca...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Mi-au taiat aripile...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113690323708434216?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/113690323708434216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=113690323708434216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113690323708434216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113690323708434216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/01/tristete.html' title='Tristete'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113654152265744921</id><published>2006-01-06T11:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T14:09:28.056+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Versuri.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I didn't mean it when I said I didn't love you so,I should have held on tight,I never should've let you go,I did nothing,I was stupid,I was foolish,I was lying to myself,I could not fathom that I would ever be without your love,never imagined I'd be sitting here beside myself...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;We belong together,when you left I lost a part of me;it's still so hard to believe;come back baby please...We belong together...Who else am I gonna lean on when times get rough,who's gonna talk to me 'till the sun comes up...who's gonna take your place,baby nobody else..We belong together...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nobody's going to love me better I must stick with you forever... nobody's going to take me higher I must stick with you....You know how to appreciate me I must stick with you, my baby, nobody ever made me feel this way...I'm going to stick with you...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Don't you know that he was my man?But I chose to let him go...So why do you act like I still care about him?.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;What are you thinking? Do you know about us back then ?Do you know about your husband, girlfriend? I'm not thinking ‘bout him but you married him,do you know I made him leave?Do you know he begged to stay with me?He wasn't man enough for me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113654152265744921?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/113654152265744921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=113654152265744921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113654152265744921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113654152265744921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2006/01/versuri.html' title='Versuri.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113533974353616990</id><published>2005-12-23T14:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T14:09:03.546+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sarbatori fericite.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sa aiba toata lumea un Craciun fericit, cu soare in suflet,alaturi de cei dragi. Sa fiti iubiti, doriti, sa aveti pe masa toate cele necesare iar in inima numai bucurie. Craciun fericit!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113533974353616990?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/113533974353616990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=113533974353616990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113533974353616990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113533974353616990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2005/12/sarbatori-fericite.html' title='Sarbatori fericite.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113507879884046356</id><published>2005-12-18T13:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-20T13:39:58.840+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Prima ninsoare.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mai stiti ce a-ti facut anul trecut la prima ninsoare care s-a si asternut? In Iasi prima ninsoare mai abudenta a fost intr-o duminica. Eu eram in vizita la cineva, era cald in casa si cafeaua excelenta. Si m-a chemat la geam sa imi arate ce frumos ninge... m-a luat in brate, iar eu am intins mana si am prins cativa fulgi mari care mi-au udat palma si mi-au dat fiori. De la boxele combinei se auzeau slow-uri...iar ninsoarea s-a asternut incet, incet peste copaci, peste strada,blocuri...tot ce era gri s-a transformat, mai luminos, mai curat, iar oamenii s-au mai inseninat putin de la atata alb.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Cand am iesit afara, el a luat putina zapada si mi-a pus pe nas...sa poarte noroc prima ninsoare tot restul anului.Si era nici prea frig...nici prea cald...frumos ca in peisajele din cartile de povesti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A fost odata ca niciodata o zi de iarna cu multa zapada.Si doi tineri ce se plimbau in parcul Copou. Ambitie si fugareala prin zapada, cine va aluneca primul... au alunecat amandoi, s-a furat un sarut cald pe zapada rece. S-ar putea crede ca dupa un asemenea inceput totul ar decurge lin si ar trai fericiti pana la adanci batraneti.Zapada face doar totul sa para si mai minunat decat este.Si chiar daca nu mai sunt impreuna clipa placuta si inzapezita a ramas in memorie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Eu astept sa ma dau cu sania, sa dau cu bulgari in sora mea (razbunare,dulce razbunare), sa ma duc la patinoar si sa cad pe gheata si mai ales sa rad... sa rad cand fulgii de zapada imi ating fata...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nu e asa ca va place zapada?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113507879884046356?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/113507879884046356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=113507879884046356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113507879884046356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113507879884046356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2005/12/prima-ninsoare_18.html' title='Prima ninsoare.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113507867737406932</id><published>2005-12-14T13:35:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-20T13:42:00.566+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Speranta...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"-Dar tu...ce vrei sa iti aduca Mosul?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-Nimic."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Am mintit.Mi-as dori sa ninga.Sa am zapada de Craciun, sa imi dea senzatia aia de bucurie copilareasca, ce apare tot mai rar in ultima vreme.Am sa fac un brad frumos, am sa il impodobesc cum stiu eu mai bine. Poate chiar merg cu colindul pe la cunostinte (poate primesc ceva mai multa rabdare...urasc aglomeratiile de rude si cunostinte...hrrr).Mai vreau sa fiu langa o persoana draga, cu sufletul cald, care sa ma incalzeasca si pe mine.Sa ma faca sa uit toate rautatile si toate supararile de peste an macar pentru o noapte. Si sa impart cu el orice...pana si o bomboana de pom (desi trebuie sa recunosc ca din acest fel de bomboane as manca o cutie intreaga odata ).Ar fi de asemenea frumos daca toate ar merge lin, fara suparari, fara certuri, fara intalniri neplacute.Sa nu mai am nici un dor la inima, sa nu imi lipseasca buna dispozitie (uimitor la mine buna dispozitie se poate deteriora destul de repede in perioada asta a anului).Se pare ca tot ce vreau tine mai mult de suflet. Eh, fiecare cu ce are nevoie...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113507867737406932?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/113507867737406932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=113507867737406932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113507867737406932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113507867737406932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2005/12/speranta_14.html' title='Speranta...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113507887920567404</id><published>2005-12-13T13:40:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-12-21T18:35:38.856+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Aiureli.Reloaded</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar am primit una in barba de la doamna Viata. Cand credeam ca am ajuns sa cunosc firea oamenilor si as putea sa ma feresc de tot ce e mai josnic...am primit o lovitura frontala de am cazut pe spate.Nici nu am prevazut-o macar.Un fost amic a devenit subit periculos si amenintator (subit...adica in urma unei replici de ale mele, ce sa-i faci daca sunt asa caustica).Situatie care nu mi-a convenit, mi-a stricat jumatate de zi...dar solutii se gasesc, doar trebuie sa cauti.Si le-am gasit intr-adevar, in cazul unui atac din partea dumnealui sunt cat de cat asigurata. Daca ar fi fost un atac fizic, as fi fost mai in siguranta.Dar asa umbla la cerebel si aplica metode psihologice...foarte urat din partea lui, dupa parerea mea.&lt;br /&gt;Intr-o lume in care se spune ca oricine are libertatea cuvantului, oamenii reactioneaza destul de interesant atunci cand le spui ceva neplacut (de cele mai multe ori un adevar).Un limbaj si o conversatie care atinge exact unde doare iti poate aduce destui dusmani.De exemplu ziaristii.A-ti observat cu cata rautate sunt priviti? Pentru simplul fapt ca sunt bagareti si iscoditori.Dar daca nu ar fi nimic de ascuns...nici ei nu ar mai avea ce iscodi. Eu insa nu sunt ziarista.Nici nu cred ca voi ajunge vreodata&lt;br /&gt;Unul din "proastele" mele obiceiuri este faptul ca intreb tot timpul "de ce?". Fapt ce duce la intinderea la maxim a nervilor anumitor persoane. Nu e ceva planuit, doar ca nu pot accepta o afirmatie, pur si simplu.Si nu stiu sa tac.Cand sunt macar atinsa cu o vorba replic cel putin de doua ori mai caustic.Bineinteles de la acest fapt pornesc majoritatea problemelor mele.&lt;br /&gt;Am cateva puncte sensibile, la care pot fi atinsa.Nu pot accepta sa fiu acuzata de un fapt pe care nu l-am facut, sau sa mi se atribuiasca defecte pe care nu le am.Si nu accept sfaturi decat daca le cer eu in mod expres.Probabil sunt prea orgolioasa. Probabil nici nu o sa imi pese prea mult de ce cred unii sau altii.Ma cunosc indeajuns de bine pentru a nu lua in considerare (si chiar a crede) vorbele rautacioase aruncate doar pentru a jigni. De enervat insa le mai reuseste.Insa au rolul lor.Fara aceste puseuri de nervi viata ar fi destul de incolora.Vorba aia..."pretuieste-ti dusmanii caci tot tu ti i-ai facut" .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113507887920567404?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/113507887920567404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=113507887920567404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113507887920567404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113507887920567404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2005/12/aiurelireloaded.html' title='Aiureli.Reloaded'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113326145433817622</id><published>2005-11-29T11:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-11-29T12:50:54.456+02:00</updated><title type='text'>draga mea...dragul meu...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Imi permit sa redau mai jos un fragment dintr-o scrisoare. A cui , catre cine...va las sa descoperiti.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;" Draga mea...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sunt cinci ceasuri de dimineata si eu, luandu-ma cu lucrul, n-am putut inchide ochii inca.Acum, dupa ce-am sfarsit cate aveam de facut, imi inchei ziua gandind la tine, pasarea mea cea sprintena, cea voioasa si trista totodata si as vrea sa pun mana pe tine, sa te sarut pe aripa... pe locul unde va fi fost odata doua aripi, pe umarul tau cel alb si rotund si frumos. Dar trebuie sa-mi pun pofta-n cui, caci in aces moment tu dormi dusa, in patutul tau asternut desigur c-o fina panza de in, iar eu ma uit in lumanare si gandesc la tine.Dormi si nu te trezi, ca eu te pazesc tocmai de aici.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Iar mani cand te vei trezi, ai s-astepti scrisoare si poimani are sa-ti vie si atunci ai sa stii si tu ce faceai pe cand eu scriam aceste siruri si eu cum te-nchipuiesc pe tine,dormind nesarutata, in pat.Oh, nesarutat-o, tare te-as mai saruta!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dragul meu...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113326145433817622?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/113326145433817622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=113326145433817622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113326145433817622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113326145433817622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2005/11/draga-meadragul-meu.html' title='draga mea...dragul meu...'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18271628.post-113204854458776385</id><published>2005-11-15T11:45:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2005-11-15T11:55:44.606+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Iaka.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Sunt defecta. Ma doare gatul, capul, pulpele picioarelor... Bine, cred ca partea cu pulpele e din cauza tropaielii. Dansai pe populara sambata si mi-am dat tot interesul,cred ca facui febra musculara. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Ignorarea persoanelor a avut un succes mai mare decat ma asteptam. M-am calmat, e chiar foarte evident. Mai putin stres, nu vreau sa albesc sau sa fac riduri :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In winamp am numai ce imi place mie, pot spune ca din punctul asta de vedere stau excelent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; "Bade din cauza ta ma cert cu vecina mea, ca si ei ii e drag de tine... de aia ma iubesc cu tine sa bag boala in vecine... si am sa te iubesc cu dor in ciuda vecinilor..." Veniti la joc? :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/18271628-113204854458776385?l=otrava.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/feeds/113204854458776385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18271628&amp;postID=113204854458776385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113204854458776385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/18271628/posts/default/113204854458776385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://otrava.blogspot.com/2005/11/iaka.html' title='Iaka.'/><author><name>Poizan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03334541539630637356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://img382.imageshack.us/img382/123/poizon6vd.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
