tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62765409735630717392011-04-21T14:02:38.113-07:00خولهnoreply@blogger.comBlogger21100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6276540973563071739.post-28497709424224345252009-01-24T12:24:00.000-08:002009-02-06T08:29:22.527-08:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ph4klXvMMy0/SYxkQUdFZQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/qkkETxbk-D0/s1600-h/600874d7cc.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299721093039613186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 319px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ph4klXvMMy0/SYxkQUdFZQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/qkkETxbk-D0/s320/600874d7cc.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><br /><strong><span style="color:#663300;">When I sit, talking to myself; I feel that I am a bird without wings…<br />Every day I open my window… let the sun goes through my skin to give<br />me warm and strength it is the nature gift…to go on your life with hop…<br />….is that enough or not but the bird cannot flies without wings…</span></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6276540973563071739-2849770942422434525?l=mylittlelight-zainah.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>خولهnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6276540973563071739.post-45479716413462347112008-05-22T06:10:00.000-07:002008-10-26T05:01:04.431-07:00<a href="http://up.stop55.com/upfiles/DPs21493.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 337px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 429px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://up.stop55.com/upfiles/DPs21493.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://www.l22l.com/l22l-up-3/9941e61501.jpg"></a><strong></strong><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>I feel what you feel about “passion”, and you do not know from where it comes.</strong></div><br /><div align="center"><strong>Touch the deep of your soul, waiting for something or someone. Do you wait, so</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong> ask the wind about hope, ask about death while living, about walking while</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong> sitting, about every thing that move while stopping and speak while silent….</strong></div><div align="center"><strong><br />There is a drop of tears from black bolls, show up when passion mentions…</strong> </div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6276540973563071739-4547971641346234711?l=mylittlelight-zainah.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>خولهnoreply@blogger.com0