<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063</id><updated>2009-10-13T08:25:00.535-03:00</updated><title type='text'>HISTORIAS DESHABITADAS</title><subtitle type='html'>La ciudad regala historias, y cuando ya no quedan palabras, hay que salir a caminar renglones...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>85</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-5690556831985383449</id><published>2008-03-19T01:31:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T01:34:26.481-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Historias Deshabitadas</title><content type='html'>...cuando ya no quedan palabras hay que salir a caminar renglones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nuevas esquinas, algunas calles y más historias deshabitadas en:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://valescribe.wordpress.com/"&gt;http://valescribe.wordpress.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-5690556831985383449?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/5690556831985383449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/5690556831985383449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2008/03/historias-deshabitadas.html' title='Historias Deshabitadas'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-2192308673596966469</id><published>2008-02-10T21:08:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T21:09:17.716-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Metamorfosis I</title><content type='html'>Su espaldañada,&lt;br /&gt;                    mielegida de una  bocabeja.&lt;br /&gt;Labios polencontrados.&lt;br /&gt;El aguijón sin muerte.&lt;br /&gt;La reina sin trono.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;El cuerpo panal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-2192308673596966469?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/2192308673596966469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/2192308673596966469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2008/02/metamorfosis-i.html' title='Metamorfosis I'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-8495282380527643812</id><published>2008-02-09T20:01:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T20:07:10.776-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Arenaciente</title><content type='html'>Tropezar con la invisible sombra de uno mismo&lt;br /&gt;Arrojarse al vacío imposible de la memoria&lt;br /&gt;Desnudar las certezas...y hacerles el amor&lt;br /&gt;Desandar los secretos ubicados tras la niebla de la mirada&lt;br /&gt;Ocultar las heridas entre los granos dorados del tiempo&lt;br /&gt;Desangrarse en el oscuro rincón del abandonocturno&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Soñarse entera tras las caída.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Beber la sequía de la piel arena.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-8495282380527643812?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/8495282380527643812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/8495282380527643812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2008/02/arenaciente.html' title='Arenaciente'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-5280413931221831459</id><published>2008-01-30T11:37:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T11:41:11.080-02:00</updated><title type='text'>PasaDormido</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La espera no es de ti&lt;br /&gt;                  Es de aire&lt;br /&gt;                  Es de andar&lt;br /&gt;                            De los pasos que no he dado&lt;br /&gt;         Es de llegar alguna parte&lt;br /&gt;Y dejar por una vez de estar partida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;II&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comiendo arena el cristal embudo&lt;br /&gt;                            Y la caída&lt;br /&gt;                                               Y el tiempo&lt;br /&gt;Y la incertidumbre del último grano&lt;br /&gt;                  Que acaba de caer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;III&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confieso que ya no se hacia donde fui&lt;br /&gt;…porque no me encuentro&lt;br /&gt;…porque ya no me busco&lt;br /&gt;¡Al fin me he perdido de mi misma!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Versión 2008)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-5280413931221831459?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/5280413931221831459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/5280413931221831459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2008/01/pasadormido.html' title='PasaDormido'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-8940361438657543282</id><published>2008-01-30T10:50:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T10:54:17.617-02:00</updated><title type='text'>InterrogacioNecesarias</title><content type='html'>Y... si el deseo fuera tu cuerpo...&lt;br /&gt;la falta, tu ausencia&lt;br /&gt;los besos, tus labios&lt;br /&gt;la sonrisa, tu bocal&lt;br /&gt;a mirada, verte...&lt;br /&gt;vivir...saber que lates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...si fuera asi...entonces:                        &lt;br /&gt;                          ...la palabra serías tu.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-8940361438657543282?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/8940361438657543282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/8940361438657543282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2008/01/interrogacionecesarias.html' title='InterrogacioNecesarias'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-5948632336385937005</id><published>2008-01-14T19:18:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T19:24:17.183-02:00</updated><title type='text'>El abrazo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/R4vR-XIXGnI/AAAAAAAAAjo/xrmpUcQJhWs/s1600-h/el+abrazo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155445067746843250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/R4vR-XIXGnI/AAAAAAAAAjo/xrmpUcQJhWs/s320/el+abrazo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...la imagencontrada&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;la distancia se deshace en el pincel...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;la pielegida entre todas &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;el desOculto...en cada detalle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;El almamanece en los pliegues...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...y llega el díamante...en sus brazos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-5948632336385937005?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/5948632336385937005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/5948632336385937005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2008/01/el-abrazo.html' title='El abrazo'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/R4vR-XIXGnI/AAAAAAAAAjo/xrmpUcQJhWs/s72-c/el+abrazo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-1269264924832533846</id><published>2007-12-17T00:29:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T00:30:44.165-03:00</updated><title type='text'>SimpLE</title><content type='html'>Impares&lt;br /&gt;Impunes&lt;br /&gt;Implacables&lt;br /&gt;Impotencia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imposible (&lt;em&gt;dejar de pensar en las palabras)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-1269264924832533846?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/1269264924832533846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/1269264924832533846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/12/simple.html' title='SimpLE'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-7859184407177889183</id><published>2007-12-15T00:11:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T00:16:10.483-03:00</updated><title type='text'>DeseOlvidado</title><content type='html'>Las letras torpesperan tus labioscuros&lt;br /&gt;la frasecreta no se pronunciabiertamente&lt;br /&gt;el temor  es un paranoicomienzo&lt;br /&gt;tus palabrasperas liman la distancia&lt;br /&gt;el timposible del encuentro&lt;br /&gt;la blancura de tu camisabrosa&lt;br /&gt;la miradabierta de los ojos cerrados&lt;br /&gt;el deseOlvidado despierta&lt;br /&gt;...cicotiempos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-7859184407177889183?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/7859184407177889183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/7859184407177889183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/12/deseolvidado.html' title='DeseOlvidado'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-4308730656726983767</id><published>2007-11-17T03:19:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T03:26:39.760-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Encuentropiezo</title><content type='html'>...la distancia Ubicada entre entre la A y la O...&lt;br /&gt;los tiempos lejanos que seducen el encuentro&lt;br /&gt;la piel que sabe a papel y seduce el verSolitario&lt;br /&gt;cuando las luces apagan la memoria&lt;br /&gt;el DeseoCulto que se devela en la mirada&lt;br /&gt;las palabras torpesperan decir Hola sin convertirse en Adios.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-4308730656726983767?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/4308730656726983767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/4308730656726983767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/11/encuentropiezo.html' title='Encuentropiezo'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-233419362805027992</id><published>2007-11-13T13:43:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T13:46:36.480-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Momentropiezo</title><content type='html'>Sopla el timposobre la torre estable(cida) del momento&lt;br /&gt;se desviste la mente&lt;br /&gt;y hacemos el amor con los recuerdos&lt;br /&gt;La piel se transforma en silecio&lt;br /&gt;       y el deseoCulto se convierte en palabras.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-233419362805027992?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/233419362805027992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/233419362805027992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/11/momentropiezo.html' title='Momentropiezo'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-1695072355634623695</id><published>2007-10-25T01:21:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T01:26:36.906-03:00</updated><title type='text'>DISTANCIA</title><content type='html'>Demoras la palabrasesina&lt;br /&gt;para disfrutar del SilenciOCulto (&lt;em&gt;tras la mirada de cristal)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conservas el deseo,&lt;br /&gt;mientras el juego es ajeno a las reglas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inquebrantablesperas&lt;br /&gt;la boCapaz de romper la distancia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(que existe entre el ahora y sus labios)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-1695072355634623695?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/1695072355634623695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/1695072355634623695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/10/distancia.html' title='DISTANCIA'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-7500847767709579465</id><published>2007-10-13T15:07:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-10-13T15:13:07.328-03:00</updated><title type='text'>DeseOCulto</title><content type='html'>Corta el aire la sombra de un silencio&lt;br /&gt;La luz de una ventana distante&lt;br /&gt;El misterio de una mirada oculta tras un cristal&lt;br /&gt;La tridimensionalidad de los objetos planos&lt;br /&gt;La oscuridad lúcida de una locura inminente&lt;br /&gt;Los párpados cansados tras el papel vencido por la experiencia&lt;br /&gt;El sonido oculto tras la boca abierta&lt;br /&gt;El destiempo puntual de un adios imposible&lt;br /&gt;La sonrisa falsa de un deseo oculto&lt;br /&gt;La sombra justa para distanciar el encuentro.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-7500847767709579465?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/7500847767709579465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/7500847767709579465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/10/deseoculto.html' title='DeseOCulto'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-7848000299867521236</id><published>2007-10-12T12:04:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T12:05:34.373-03:00</updated><title type='text'>ARENA</title><content type='html'>...Los instantesperados se escapan entre las agujas del tiemposible...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-7848000299867521236?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/7848000299867521236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/7848000299867521236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/10/arena.html' title='ARENA'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-4714822841244805594</id><published>2007-10-12T11:37:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T11:44:40.621-03:00</updated><title type='text'>PIELEGIDA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/Rw-G5repq0I/AAAAAAAAABQ/P_KHxCWTC2o/s1600-h/769475198_0326384e6a.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...los ojos tras una gota de lluvia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...el saludos imprudente (y esperado)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...Las miradas despiertan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;las palabras desvisten al silencio&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...la distanciantes que la piel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;la mentemerosa de descubrirnos&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Piensandolores. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Llueverdades.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...la pielegida.Las palabras torpes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-4714822841244805594?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/4714822841244805594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/4714822841244805594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/10/pielegida.html' title='PIELEGIDA'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-3830660468823034759</id><published>2007-09-15T20:46:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2007-09-15T20:46:46.497-03:00</updated><title type='text'>NUMEROLOGÍA CLIMATICA</title><content type='html'>I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;¿Qué es lo que dice el cielo cuando calla?&lt;br /&gt;                                               Dice silencio…&lt;br /&gt;Y el tiempo de palabras, se deshace en el rojo de sus heridas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;II&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;El manto posible de la noche se acerca&lt;br /&gt;Las infinitas ilusiones  se transforman en constelación&lt;br /&gt;                            …cuando la mirada juega a encontrarte.&lt;br /&gt;La búsqueda se deshace al cruzar un recuerdo&lt;br /&gt;                                               …que se convierte en nube.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;III&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lagunas de sentimientormentoso&lt;br /&gt;         cubren la vista recién nacida de la mañana.&lt;br /&gt;Mientras del Este asoma el sol desplegando los brazos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;El otro lado del mundo asoma tras los ojos negros.&lt;br /&gt;Llega el instante del tiempo que se oculta en las caricias&lt;br /&gt;La ausencia desborda la habitación llamada memoria&lt;br /&gt;Mientras cae la lluvia desde el abismo de la mirada&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La mujer se inclina en una esquina&lt;br /&gt;No hay pausa en el gesto&lt;br /&gt;La búsqueda deshace la bolsa&lt;br /&gt;La mano se ensucia&lt;br /&gt;La boca se llena.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;VI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;¿De qué habla la noche cuando los zapatos callan su andar?&lt;br /&gt;¿Qué dicen del día los ojos ocultos tras el sueño?&lt;br /&gt;¿Quiénes conversan en las sábanas inmóviles y sudadas de la habitación?&lt;br /&gt;¿Dónde se esconde la luna mientras las luces iluminan las calles vacías?&lt;br /&gt;¿Cuándo se llena la memoria de noches de olvido?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-3830660468823034759?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/3830660468823034759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/3830660468823034759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/09/numerologa-climatica.html' title='NUMEROLOGÍA CLIMATICA'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-7739967254817728188</id><published>2007-09-13T00:30:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T00:31:12.390-03:00</updated><title type='text'>LA PIEL Y LAS PALABRAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/Ruiu3h_Fs4I/AAAAAAAAABI/QlPS91eu5i4/s1600-h/val+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109526046290850690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/Ruiu3h_Fs4I/AAAAAAAAABI/QlPS91eu5i4/s320/val+1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-7739967254817728188?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/7739967254817728188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/7739967254817728188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/09/la-piel-y-las-palabras.html' title='LA PIEL Y LAS PALABRAS'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/Ruiu3h_Fs4I/AAAAAAAAABI/QlPS91eu5i4/s72-c/val+1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-614994158365815420</id><published>2007-09-13T00:19:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T00:24:16.029-03:00</updated><title type='text'>CALMA</title><content type='html'>CALMARAVILLADA LA NOCHE ESPERA&lt;br /&gt;LA PACIENCIARDE LA  PIELEGIDA&lt;br /&gt;LOS LABIOSCUROS SEDUCEN LA DISTANCIA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOS CAMINOSOTROS&lt;br /&gt;LAS MIRADAS INCIERTAS&lt;br /&gt;SE DESHACE EL TIEMPO&lt;br /&gt;EL VIENTO DESTRUYE LAS HUELLAS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EL TIEMPOSIBLE AGUARDA...&lt;br /&gt;... DETRAS DE LA PUERTABIERTA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-614994158365815420?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/614994158365815420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/614994158365815420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/09/calma.html' title='CALMA'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-5083628659626368536</id><published>2007-09-13T00:17:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T00:18:15.301-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/Ruir7B_Fs1I/AAAAAAAAAAs/vTz85WSzWfo/s1600-h/769475198_0326384e6a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109522807885509458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/Ruir7B_Fs1I/AAAAAAAAAAs/vTz85WSzWfo/s320/769475198_0326384e6a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-5083628659626368536?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/5083628659626368536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/5083628659626368536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/Ruir7B_Fs1I/AAAAAAAAAAs/vTz85WSzWfo/s72-c/769475198_0326384e6a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-7274106072132657171</id><published>2007-08-14T23:22:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T23:22:57.378-03:00</updated><title type='text'>GESTO</title><content type='html'>Arrancarte de ti. Deshacerte de veras. Tomar un frasco de vidrio del estante: Cicatrizante Tiempo y colocárselo al corazón deshecho. Tonterías. El tiempo no lo cura todo. La burla de la herida solo es posible para un ileso. El resto: sobrevivir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No importa. Existes aun. Con la torpeza de un recién nacido tratas de levantarte y caes. Intentas de nuevo y caes. Duele , claro que duele. El golpe. La herida no es profunda. Tratas. Un paso. Temor del aire, ceguera de luz. Ardes a la vida. El miedo. La tierra. Tropiezas. Vives. Te quemas. Un gesto. Vives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-7274106072132657171?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/7274106072132657171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/7274106072132657171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/08/gesto.html' title='GESTO'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-4279177020159645140</id><published>2007-08-13T02:06:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T02:07:07.811-03:00</updated><title type='text'>SABIDURIA</title><content type='html'>Saben como mantener la distancia&lt;br /&gt;Los cuerpos no entienden&lt;br /&gt;Desbordados se desgarran&lt;br /&gt;Saben que no hay verdades&lt;br /&gt;Ahora callan las palabras&lt;br /&gt;Se han desbordado los sentidos&lt;br /&gt;La piel se torna suave&lt;br /&gt;Revoluciones de miradas&lt;br /&gt;Prometimos no hacernos daño&lt;br /&gt;Prometimos silencio&lt;br /&gt;Dejemos que la muerte hable por nosotros&lt;br /&gt;Ella, sabiamente resucita la historia&lt;br /&gt;Nosotros no somos siquiera importantes&lt;br /&gt;Se que sabes&lt;br /&gt;Como sale el sol&lt;br /&gt;Como se esconde la luna&lt;br /&gt;Como sabe el púrpura&lt;br /&gt;Como gusta el burbujear debajo la lengua&lt;br /&gt;Pero silencio&lt;br /&gt;Dejemos que la muerte hable&lt;br /&gt;Las mejillas se humedecen&lt;br /&gt;Los santos también lloran&lt;br /&gt;El amanecer tal vez nos vea resucitar entre la tierra&lt;br /&gt;Tal vez no haya tumbas después de esta noche&lt;br /&gt;Pero silencio&lt;br /&gt;Mejor que solo ella hable&lt;br /&gt;Dejemos que cante la canción que mejor sabe&lt;br /&gt;Resurrecciones&lt;br /&gt;Dejemos que ella sea la que decida por nosotros&lt;br /&gt;Gemidos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-4279177020159645140?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/4279177020159645140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/4279177020159645140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/08/sabiduria.html' title='SABIDURIA'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-2285627778519875451</id><published>2007-06-16T19:38:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T19:42:39.467-03:00</updated><title type='text'>TRABAJANDO EN SILENCIO</title><content type='html'>...de pronto las palabras que habían recuperado su significado,&lt;br /&gt;comenzaron a reclamar cuerpos que la portaran.&lt;br /&gt; piernas que las caminaran, voces que las cantaran,&lt;br /&gt;manos que las regalaran...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(EN ESO ESTAMOS: BUSCANDO CUERPOS)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-2285627778519875451?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/2285627778519875451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/2285627778519875451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/06/trabajando-en-silencio.html' title='TRABAJANDO EN SILENCIO'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-4065972972694346626</id><published>2007-05-16T12:24:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T12:26:16.178-03:00</updated><title type='text'>SERIE: HISTORIAS DE PAPEL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/RksicVjVRmI/AAAAAAAAAAc/T1u-ggZ7HR0/s1600-h/byn1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065180076125275746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/RksicVjVRmI/AAAAAAAAAAc/T1u-ggZ7HR0/s320/byn1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;SOMOS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos enteramente.&lt;br /&gt;Nos deshacemos de vez en cuando para volver a armarnos.&lt;br /&gt;Somos cielos despejados que a veces son invadidos por nubes&lt;br /&gt;                                                                   y estallan las tormentas.&lt;br /&gt;Suelos áridos que se nutren. Pastos verdes que se secan.&lt;br /&gt;Naturalezas que a veces se mueren…evolucionan, renacen...esperan.&lt;br /&gt;Animales en batalla o cachorros que descansan bajo un árbol.&lt;br /&gt;Calles concurridas o despejados caminos.&lt;br /&gt;Montañas mansas y volcanes en erupción.&lt;br /&gt;Palabras que nos callan, miradas que nos dicen.&lt;br /&gt;Corazones latiendo o simplemente cuerpos deslizándose por el mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Somos ternura , calma, ansiedad, locura, placer, deseos, tristezas, silencios…&lt;br /&gt;Nunca violencia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-4065972972694346626?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/4065972972694346626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/4065972972694346626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/05/serie-historias-de-papel_519.html' title='SERIE: HISTORIAS DE PAPEL'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/RksicVjVRmI/AAAAAAAAAAc/T1u-ggZ7HR0/s72-c/byn1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-3582493002547279387</id><published>2007-05-16T12:24:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T12:24:51.239-03:00</updated><title type='text'>SERIE: HISTORIAS DE PAPEL</title><content type='html'>OJOS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No soportar.&lt;br /&gt;Hartarse.&lt;br /&gt;Enloquecer.&lt;br /&gt;Estallar (pero no de risa)&lt;br /&gt;Contenerse.&lt;br /&gt;Y al final del día, como siempre, cerrar los ojos.&lt;br /&gt;         Esperando volver a abrirlos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-3582493002547279387?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/3582493002547279387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/3582493002547279387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/05/serie-historias-de-papel_675.html' title='SERIE: HISTORIAS DE PAPEL'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-5698971644450730009</id><published>2007-05-16T12:23:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T14:09:49.347-03:00</updated><title type='text'>SERIE: HISTORIAS DE PAPEL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hw3DzhnPuEI/RksiHljVRlI/AAAAAAAAAAU/nk8axaNBpg4/s1600-h/UNTNFKCA4VF6LGCA551DHXCASE0IJ1CARZCC2RCA8W1PTJCAZ0GWR8CABKGO4VCA4EHQ2KCAH8DPXPCAI3E6XJCANQV3IPCAXN82U2CASN6RY4CA3584P9CAT8L61BCANUX8B8CAG61XMF.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Paciencia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y aquí:&lt;br /&gt;donde nada sobra. Aguardamos.&lt;br /&gt;Seguimos observando las hojas caer de un árbol.&lt;br /&gt;Deseando que alguna tarde pases por debajo y ellas se conviertan en cuchillas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-5698971644450730009?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/5698971644450730009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/5698971644450730009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/05/serie-historias-de-papel_1988.html' title='SERIE: HISTORIAS DE PAPEL'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5308474234963860063.post-1679717395899087680</id><published>2007-05-16T12:23:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T12:23:25.140-03:00</updated><title type='text'>SERIE: HISTORIAS DE PAPEL</title><content type='html'>INMUNIDAD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desearía la ceguera de la mirada que no mira pero ve.&lt;br /&gt;La inmunidad del dolor que no se siente.&lt;br /&gt;La distancia del afuera, dentro.&lt;br /&gt;         A veces, desearía no habitar este mundo, tan asquerosamente deshabitado.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;by valescribe&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5308474234963860063-1679717395899087680?l=historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/1679717395899087680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5308474234963860063/posts/default/1679717395899087680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://historiasdeshabitadas.blogspot.com/2007/05/serie-historias-de-papel_4226.html' title='SERIE: HISTORIAS DE PAPEL'/><author><name>valescribe</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05020967294157681922</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09271552867738393537'/></author></entry></feed>