<?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-5791320</id><updated>2011-04-21T15:28:35.169-03:00</updated><title type='text'>cronicas urbanas</title><subtitle type='html'>Notas de uma viagem entre fotografia e cidade </subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-111703166683877510</id><published>2005-05-25T11:33:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T11:40:14.760-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>— MAIS SOBRE A “LISBOA, CIDADE TRISTE E ALEGRE” EM:www.imagensdacidade.blogspot.comSegui aqui, página a página os excertos literários incluídos na Lisboa de Victor Palla e Costa Martins, por me parecer que aqui, o "nosso" ciberespaço, se presta de um modo muito feliz à capacidade de engendrar imagens, tal como previsto pela dupla Palla-Martins no seu poema gráfico urbano em livro. Retomarei </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/111703166683877510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/111703166683877510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2005_05_01_archive.html#111703166683877510' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-109166110675132981</id><published>2004-08-04T20:11:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2005-05-25T11:33:12.160-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 142, POEMA INÉDITO]A sombra enforcou naquele candeeiroo homem que eu imaginopara ali a dançar o nevoeirodo seu destino.Que fácil matar assim!Nem lhe falta o corvonum halode carícia— a devorá-lodentro de mim…(Cuidado! Um polícia.Vou ressuscitá-lo.)José Gomes Ferreira</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/109166110675132981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/109166110675132981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_08_01_archive.html#109166110675132981' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-109121761503854194</id><published>2004-07-30T16:59:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-08-04T20:12:46.686-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 139-141, POEMA INÉDITO]OS VELHOSEm suma: somos os velhos,Cheios de cuspo e conselhos,Velhos que ninguém aturaA não ser a literature.E outros velhos. (Os novosAfirmam-se por maus modosCom os velhos). SenectudeÉ tempo não é virtude…Decorativos? Talvez…Mas por dentro “era uma vez…”*Velhas atrozes, saídasDe tugúrios impossíveis,Dispararam, raivoso, o denteContra tudo e </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/109121761503854194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/109121761503854194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#109121761503854194' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-109062201334840634</id><published>2004-07-23T19:33:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-07-30T17:00:35.910-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 124]Domingo irei para as hortas na pessoa dos outros.Álvaro de Campos, POESIASPorque um domingo é famíliaÉ bem-estar, é singeleza.Mário de Sá-Carneiro, DISPERSÃO</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/109062201334840634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/109062201334840634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#109062201334840634' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108937388534752114</id><published>2004-07-09T08:51:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-07-23T19:33:58.070-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 120]Nos dedos do ventoO sonho dos amantesOs cabelos voandoNos dedos do ventoO carrocel levandoO riso dos feirantesE a alegria do mundoEm mealheiros de barro.Orlando da Costa, FEIRA</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108937388534752114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108937388534752114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108937388534752114' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108933398471965971</id><published>2004-07-08T21:46:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-07-09T08:51:49.566-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 116, POEMA INÉDITO]CAPITALCasas, carros, casas, casos.Capital	encarcerada.Colos, calos, cuspo, caspa.Cautos, castas. Calvos, cabras.Casos, casos. Carros, casas...Capital	acumulado.E capuzes. E capotas.E que pêsames! Que passos!Em que pensas? Como passas?Capitães. E capatazes.E cartazes. Que patadas!E que chaves! Cofres, caixas...Capital	acautelado.Cascos, coxas, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108933398471965971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108933398471965971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108933398471965971' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108922907282251537</id><published>2004-07-07T16:37:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-07-08T21:47:03.430-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 108]Nesta árvoreonde até os pássaros se enforcam nos ninhoshá muito que morauma ninfa de carne incertafugida da borrascados caminhos.Bato-lhe de manso na casca...Sou eu, ninfa. Abre! Estamos os dois sòzinhosnesta rua deserta.Sai cá para forae beija-me na boca.Prova-me que a vida é louca.José Gomes Ferreira[pág. 95, POEMA INÉDITO]Só nós e algum vadio te queremos,meu</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108922907282251537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108922907282251537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108922907282251537' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108906927913858686</id><published>2004-07-05T20:14:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-07-07T16:38:25.546-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 90]E vós varinas que sabeis a sale que trazeis o Mar no vosso avental,as Naus da Fenícia ainda não voltaram?!Almada Negreiros, A CENA DO ÓDIO[pág. 87, POEMA INÉDITO]Alguém diz com lentidão:"Lisboa, sabes..."Eu sei. É uma raparigadescalça e leve,um vento súbito e claronos cabelos,algumas rugas finasa espreitar-lhe os olhos,a solidão abertanos lábios e nos dedos,descendo </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108906927913858686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108906927913858686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108906927913858686' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108879577128159008</id><published>2004-07-02T16:15:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-07-05T20:15:07.296-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 78]Passou o Outono já, já torna o frio…Outono do seu riso magoado.Álgido Inverno! Oblíquo o sol, gelado…— O Sol, e as águas límpidas do rio.Camilo Pessanha, CLEPSIDRA[pág. 74, POEMA INÉDITO]Ceifadas breves por um sol rasanteque à mansa tarde encrespa em clamas ondasde outono ribeirinho e retardado,gaivotas grasnam, tombam ensombradasno cintilar macio ante meus olhos.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108879577128159008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108879577128159008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108879577128159008' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108864445887104854</id><published>2004-06-30T22:14:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-07-02T16:16:39.326-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 65]— E não sucede mais nada!Nada ali se modificaNaquelas quatro casitasDe um beco triste da Bica.António Botto, ROMANCE---[E passámos às finais do Euro!!! Agora vamos ver se conseguimos a mesma mobilização incondicional para outras conquistas bem mais decisivas no futuro! Viva a Selecção e o Scolari que fizeram um bom trabalho, novamente na "cidade triste e alegre"!]</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108864445887104854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108864445887104854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108864445887104854' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108856649776710667</id><published>2004-06-30T00:34:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-30T22:24:32.700-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 63]Gato que brincas na ruaComo se fosse na cama,Invejo a sorte que é tuaPorque nem sorte se chama.Fernando Pessoa, POESIAS---[e consegui o prolongamento da Bolsa para alargar a pesquisa ao eixo mediterrânico!!! juntam-se assim a São Paulo, Londres e Nova Iorque cidades igualmente carismáticas como Barcelona e Milão! mas falarei sobre isso mais tarde...]</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108856649776710667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108856649776710667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108856649776710667' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108842688899910744</id><published>2004-06-28T09:48:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-30T22:17:42.336-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 46]Sol nulo dos dias vãosCheios de lida e de calmaAquece a menos as mãosA quem não entras na alma.Fernando Pessoa, POESIAS---[breves, pessoais e transmissíveis: ser cidadão não é só apoiar a selecção é participar por uma melhor democracia e zelar pelos nossos direitos! No regresso ao país a estupefacção não podia ser maior, tanta alegria com o fabuloso jogo frente à Inglaterra — e </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108842688899910744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108842688899910744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108842688899910744' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-10879121066050758</id><published>2004-06-22T10:45:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-28T09:44:07.953-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[LONDON CALLING...]queridos cibernautas, a minha estadia de momento em Londres leva-me a introduzir um breve desvio pela vida da cidade. Encontrei na Photographers’ Gallery uma edição fac-simile do “Love on the Left Bank” de Ed Van der Elsken, só por 19.99 libras! Aproveitem se puderem, a edição é muito cuidada e fiel ao original, tão somente um dos livros de fotografias mais influentes e </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/10879121066050758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/10879121066050758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#10879121066050758' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108754964034116509</id><published>2004-06-18T06:07:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-28T09:48:38.100-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>---[pág. 36-38]Por parques e praças,Ruas e travessas,Tu, meu olhar, caçasA vida. E tropeças.……Corre, olhar, em roda!O que te intimida?A vida? Só todaPode amar-se, a vidaAlberto de Serpa, RUA</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108754964034116509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108754964034116509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108754964034116509' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108752170742050711</id><published>2004-06-17T22:17:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-28T09:49:07.836-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 34]Bem me lembro das altas ruazinhasQue ambos nós percorremos de mãos dadas…Cesário Verde, NOITE FECHADA</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108752170742050711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108752170742050711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108752170742050711' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108739028681217717</id><published>2004-06-16T09:51:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-17T22:23:31.120-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[hoje com um bónus para compensar o excerto em falta no pós-eleições pseudo-europeias; também porque, confesso, a visão conformista do amor por Ricardo Reis me incomodou ao ponto de não a querer lançar assim, isolada, no ciberespaço; sobretudo quando “Os Amantes sem dinheiro” se prestam tanto aos dias que correm…][pág. 32]Eu falo dum jardim onde começaO dia claro de amantes enlaçados.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108739028681217717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108739028681217717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108739028681217717' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108730165728045152</id><published>2004-06-15T09:13:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-16T09:51:59.286-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[...desta vez com um diazito a menos, dada a ressaca das vergonhosas eleições europeias, ninguém quis saber da Europa! e depois dizem-se cidadãos do mundo...]---[pág. 29]Cheguei-me pera ela, com voz maviosa,disse-lhe: quereis companhia amorosa?Gil Vicente, FARSA DOS ALMOCREVES</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108730165728045152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108730165728045152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108730165728045152' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108696598724789703</id><published>2004-06-11T11:58:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-15T09:14:48.616-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 26]Ai eu coitada!Como vivo en gram desejopor meu amigo que tarda e non vejo!D. Sancho I, CANTAR DE AMIGO</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108696598724789703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108696598724789703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108696598724789703' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108686341959858794</id><published>2004-06-10T07:29:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-11T12:01:03.986-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 24]Ah, o êxtase dos namoradosQue se olham, beijam, voltam a olhar-see já não sabemQue mais hão-de fazer que mais hão-deinventar.Alexandre O’Neill</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108686341959858794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108686341959858794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108686341959858794' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108678070166166538</id><published>2004-06-09T08:31:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T07:31:41.356-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 20]Que sabes tu mais que ser feliz?O teu quarto é ainda de bonecas,as tuas mãos são lírios…É verdade: são lírios. E esta velha imagem,Só porque a lembro em teu louvor, pareceque é a primeira vez que um Poeta a diz.Sebastião da Gama, A UMA CRIANÇA </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108678070166166538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108678070166166538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108678070166166538' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108672961831861522</id><published>2004-06-08T18:19:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-08T18:20:18.316-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 19]Gerarão as crianças quanta vida ouviram: algumas serão homens.Jorge de Sena, COROA DA TERRA</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108672961831861522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108672961831861522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108672961831861522' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108664874992469276</id><published>2004-06-07T19:50:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-07T19:52:29.923-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 17/inédito]Mas logo um riso perto me desperta,de crianças que brincam na cobertade um barco só por elas conhecido.E é nelas certa a vida ao sonho aberta.Armindo Rodrigues, DEZ ODES AO TEJO</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108664874992469276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108664874992469276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108664874992469276' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108634406954444050</id><published>2004-06-04T07:14:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-04T07:15:49.606-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 16]Grande é a poesia, a bondade e as danças…Mas o melhor do mundo são as crianças.Fernando Pessoa, LIBERDADE</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108634406954444050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108634406954444050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108634406954444050' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108630483425833827</id><published>2004-06-03T20:19:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-04T07:16:33.483-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pág. 9]Meninos de olhos adultosFundos como dois segredosSidónio Muralha, TRÊS POEMAS DE LISBOA</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108630483425833827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108630483425833827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108630483425833827' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108623124966479163</id><published>2004-06-02T23:53:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-03T20:25:36.693-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[pp. I-XI]NÃO: Nada de proas homéricas singrando rio acima, batidas de ignotos mares, a fundar a capital do futuro Império-que-foi: mas um homem hirsuto e furtivo, talvez em busca da liberdade, que um dia assomou aqui e, com a mão afeita ao sílex, arredou o espesso canavial a olhar com espanto a serena e virgem expansão das águas, onde o sol se espelhava, quente e glorioso como um deus </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108623124966479163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108623124966479163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108623124966479163' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108567432025171013</id><published>2004-05-27T13:11:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T13:12:00.250-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>[página 5]Outra vez te revejo,…Cidade triste e alegre, outra vez sonho aqui……Outra vez te revejo — Lisboa e Tejo e tudo…Álvaro de Campos, LISBON REVISITED (1926)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108567432025171013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108567432025171013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108567432025171013' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108558437893898671</id><published>2004-05-26T12:07:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-27T13:09:20.546-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ainda da poesia em Lisboa...E abre-se a "Lisboa, cidade triste e alegre" com o seguinte poema de Armindo Rodrigues:Alegre ou triste,uma cidade como estaé sempre para os olhos uma festa.Não raramente, com certeza,a razão lhe resisteem encontrar beleza.Mas logo algum motivovivoou de tradição,contra a não obstante justa restrição,por sua vez protesta.A alegria a si própria se </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108558437893898671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108558437893898671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108558437893898671' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108548032324545887</id><published>2004-05-25T07:15:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-25T07:18:43.246-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Voltemo-nos então para as palavras dos próprios autores acerca da sua "Lisboa"..."O Livro aí está. Chama-se “Lisboa”,mas é o retrato de homens, mulheres, crianças que nela habitam, traçadopor dois homens que nela nasceram e vivem. Visão parcial? Evidentemente.Incompleta, tendenciosa? Pois claro. Não tivemos a ambição de fazer umdocumentário total. Um soneto pode dizer mais do que um poema </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108548032324545887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108548032324545887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108548032324545887' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108444490352089927</id><published>2004-05-13T07:27:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-13T07:45:56.286-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Lisboa pessoanaÉ, portanto, de uma Lisboa pessoana que se parte. E esse ponto de partida é feito não apenas pelo modo como Fernando Pessoa (na figura de Álvaro de Campos) resolve com grande inventividade poética uma humanização da cidade ("triste e alegre"), mas também por se partilhar com Campos essa deriva subjectiva a partir do lugar que se habita. São os próprios autores Victor Palla e </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108444490352089927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108444490352089927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108444490352089927' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108427788470831241</id><published>2004-05-11T09:17:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-11T09:27:14.386-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ainda de Lisboa...Começo por rever a origem do título do livro-exposição de Victor Palla e Costa Martins. A sua Lisboa "cidade triste e alegre" deve-se ao engenheiro-metafísico desdobrado de Fernando Pessoa, e é também uma cidade desdobrada em duas versões...LISBON REVISITED(1923)Não: não quero nada.Já disse que não quero nada.Não me venham com conclusões!A única conclusão é morrer.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108427788470831241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108427788470831241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108427788470831241' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108419593130028567</id><published>2004-05-10T10:25:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-10T10:32:11.300-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>De Lisboa.Retomo agora lentamente a escrita no ciberespaço, entre a burocracia que implica uma candidatura às bolsas da FCT e tudo o que me falta fazer para concluir a investigação proposta à Gulbenkian. Alerto já os interessados para uma ideia que talvez se venha a concretizar em breve: um seminário de pesquisa a partir da "Lisboa, Cidade Triste e Alegre" (1958-59/1982) da dupla de </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108419593130028567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108419593130028567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108419593130028567' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-108377303343501754</id><published>2004-05-05T13:01:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-10T10:24:35.173-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Bom dia a todos,hoje recomeço a minha actividade escrita neste blog, voltando a ligar estas crónicas urbanas à pesquisa que me encontro a desenvolver em torno da "Lisboa" de Victor Palla e Costa Martins.Veremos quantas Lisboas podemos encontrar nesta "cidade triste e alegre"...</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108377303343501754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/108377303343501754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108377303343501754' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-107850448681811076</id><published>2004-03-05T13:32:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-07-08T22:06:02.896-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>NOVA IORQUE...Para saberem mais novidades sobre a minha mais recente estadia em Nova Iorque, espreitem o blog que o Jorge Colombo teve a iniciativa de criar para evitar qualquer desculpa minha sobre a falta de tempo para escrever...obrigada Colombo!www.lucialucia.blogspot.com</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/107850448681811076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/107850448681811076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107850448681811076' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-106854910480101663</id><published>2003-11-11T09:11:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2003-11-11T09:11:42.416-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Londres, 11 de Novembro de 2003O silencioCaros leitores e amigos,lamento a falta de acentos, que se deve ao teclado de onde escrevo - AA library - e ao silencio desde a ultima actualizacao deste blog. E' dificil escolher entre escrever sobre as novidades e expectativas destas viagens de estudo e aproveitar todos os momentos de diferenca a que felizmente nos expomos quando nos deslocamos entre</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/106854910480101663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/106854910480101663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106854910480101663' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-106476838274905802</id><published>2003-09-28T13:59:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-05T13:10:10.170-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>São Paulo, 4 de Setembro de 2003O êxtase da novidadeA maior parte das vezes a constatação de que não podemos reter toda a experiência vivida é muito mais cruel que apaziguadora. Quando se está em viagem essa sensação é particularmente intensa, quase que ultrapassa o que somos capazes de suportar, tal é a emoção do novo, do diferente, do semelhante, do que se aprende. O dia de ontem parecia </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/106476838274905802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/106476838274905802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106476838274905802' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-106468926359838361</id><published>2003-09-27T16:01:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-05T13:13:31.326-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EMAIL: lucia_marques7@yahoo.com.brBLOG sobre a pesquisa em curso: www.imagensdacidade.blogspot.com</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/106468926359838361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/106468926359838361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106468926359838361' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-106417791015453271</id><published>2003-09-21T17:58:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-09-21T18:41:30.916-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>---Volto à escrita on-line apenas hoje, passados 18 dias desde a minha chegada a São Paulo! É também um dia de viragem neste blog, que inicialmente incluía um resumo da pesquisa que me encontro a desenvolver. Pois bem, pensei melhor. Acho que este espaço estará mais indicado para o tipo de crónicas a que me tenho dedicado no meu caderninho de notas desde o início desta viagem. Será um diário </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/106417791015453271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/106417791015453271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106417791015453271' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5791320.post-106332862462774349</id><published>2003-09-11T22:03:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-09-11T22:03:44.636-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A razão de ser deste blog...Depois das ainda mais ingênuas “Páginas de História de Arte”, que deixei de actualizar desde 1997, e onde colocava fichas de leitura no âmbito da minha licenciatura nessa área, volto ao espaço virtual para partilhar a minha mais recente pesquisa em torno da relação entre fotografia e arquitectura na década de 1950, e assim tentar criar mais oportunidades para a troca</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/106332862462774349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5791320/posts/default/106332862462774349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luciamarques.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106332862462774349' title=''/><author><name>Lucia Marques</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00180228024473434162</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TUwHE-EULpE/TZ0E25oSKVI/AAAAAAAAATA/7G0ItQ34yTU/s220/LM.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
