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	<title><![CDATA[Hay veces que estar triste me hace reir...]]></title>
	<link>http://mireia.obolog.com</link>
	<description>
Mi blog, un diario de emociones que rellenaré cada dia...
</description>
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	<pubDate>Sat, 06 Sep 2008 05:01:22 +0100</pubDate>
	<lastBuildDate>Sat, 06 Sep 2008 05:01:22 +0100</lastBuildDate>
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		<title><![CDATA[Hay veces que estar triste me hace reir...]]></title>
		<link>http://mireia.obolog.com</link>
	</image>
	<item>
		<title>MUCHO TIEMPO</title>
		<link>http://mireia.obolog.com/mucho-tiempo-63964</link>
		<description>
			<![CDATA[
			<p>
<strong>Mucho tiempo ha pasado desde mis ultimas palabras,</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>pero&nbsp;esque&nbsp;ahora&nbsp;el&nbsp;tiempo&nbsp;se&nbsp;me&nbsp;echa&nbsp;enzima...</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>el&nbsp;trabajo,<strong>las&nbsp;clases,y&nbsp;las&nbsp;fiestas!&nbsp;si&nbsp;si&nbsp;las&nbsp;fiestas,</strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><strong>cada&nbsp;dia&nbsp;falta&nbsp;menos&nbsp;para&nbsp;estas</strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>fiestas&nbsp;tan&nbsp;valencianas,falta&nbsp;menos&nbsp;para&nbsp;fallas,</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>y&nbsp;esto&nbsp;se&nbsp;nota&nbsp;en&nbsp;el&nbsp;<strong>ambiente...estas&nbsp;semanas</strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><strong>&nbsp;seran&nbsp;agotadoras,es&nbsp;tiempo&nbsp;de&nbsp;preparacion,</strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>de&nbsp;ultimar&nbsp;detalles,preparar&nbsp;los&nbsp;vestidos,los&nbsp;disfraces,</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>los&nbsp;bailes...</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>pero&nbsp;todo&nbsp;esto&nbsp;merece&nbsp;la&nbsp;pena,pues&nbsp;en&nbsp;poco&nbsp;menos&nbsp;</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>de&nbsp;un&nbsp;mes&nbsp;Valencia <strong>encendr&agrave;&nbsp;la&nbsp;mecha&nbsp;i&nbsp;podremos&nbsp;gritar</strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><strong>&nbsp;VALENCIA&nbsp;ESTA&nbsp;EN&nbsp;FALLAS!</strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>			<p>
			Leer <strong><a href="http://mireia.obolog.com/mucho-tiempo-63964" title="MUCHO TIEMPO">MUCHO TIEMPO</a></strong> en <a href="http://mireia.obolog.com" title="Miri">Hay veces que estar triste me hace reir...</a>
			</p>
			 ]]>
		</description>
				<author>Myreya</author>
				<category>reflexiones</category>
				<comments>http://mireia.obolog.com/mucho-tiempo-63964#formulario</comments>
		<guid>http://mireia.obolog.com/mucho-tiempo-63964</guid>
		<pubDate>Mon, 25 Feb 2008 00:00:19 +0100</pubDate>
	</item>
	<item>
		<title>Recuerdos...</title>
		<link>http://mireia.obolog.com/recuerdos-61586</link>
		<description>
			<![CDATA[
			<p>
<img src="file://localhost/C:/Documents%20and%20Settings/Mireia/Mis%20documentos/Mis%20im&aacute;genes/y1p_ADuWvfIuVqhtdFHutbGwVol-sI0mrU4oVwft1xlDP7p6Wy6UPuM49SZTrKQ2642ZJd6xcAiVZ3bFMBBwv5w2g.jpg" alt="" /><img src="http://www.obolog.com/organize/mireia/post/C:\Documents and Settings\Mireia\Mis documentos\Mis im&aacute;genes" alt="" /><strong><em>Dentro de nada har&aacute; un a&ntilde;o que hice un viaje maravilloso,</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> un viaje que nunca olvidare...El Sahara,esa tierra exiliada,</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>tan llena de <strong><em>vida...</em></strong>   </em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>A&uacute;n&nbsp;recuerdo&nbsp;los&nbsp;momentos&nbsp;antes&nbsp;de&nbsp;subir&nbsp;al&nbsp;avi&oacute;n,</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>el&nbsp;aeropuerto <strong><em>de&nbsp;Alicante&nbsp;estaba&nbsp;repleto&nbsp;y&nbsp;yo&nbsp;me&nbsp;</em></strong></em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em><strong><em>dedicaba&nbsp;a&nbsp;buscar&nbsp;a&nbsp;alguien&nbsp;que </em></strong><strong><em>realizara&nbsp;el&nbsp;mismo&nbsp;viaje.</em></strong></em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em><strong><em>&nbsp;No&nbsp;era&nbsp;dificil&nbsp;Saber&nbsp;quien&nbsp;viajaba&nbsp;hacia&nbsp;</em></strong>   </em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>los&nbsp;campamentos&nbsp;de&nbsp;refugiados&nbsp;puesto&nbsp;que&nbsp;no&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>llevabamos&nbsp;maletas&nbsp;</em></strong> <strong><em>normales,sino&nbsp;mochilas&nbsp;repletas&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>bien precintadas con fotos y direcciones</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>de&nbsp;las&nbsp;familias&nbsp;que&nbsp;ivamos&nbsp;a&nbsp;visitar;&nbsp;asi&nbsp;que&nbsp;no&nbsp;me&nbsp;fue&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>dificil&nbsp;encontrar&nbsp;</em></strong><strong><em>gente&nbsp;con&nbsp;la&nbsp;que&nbsp;pasar&nbsp;mis&nbsp;ultimas&nbsp;horas</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;aqui,horas&nbsp;que&nbsp;se&nbsp;me&nbsp;hicieron&nbsp;<strong><em>eternas...</em></strong>   </em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Y&nbsp;despues...como&nbsp;olvidar&nbsp;la&nbsp;llegada?Era&nbsp;de&nbsp;noche&nbsp;y&nbsp;al&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>salir&nbsp;del&nbsp;avi&oacute;n&nbsp;</em></strong><strong><em>mir&eacute;&nbsp;a&nbsp;todos&nbsp;lados,como&nbsp;buscando&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>alguien&nbsp;que&nbsp;me&nbsp;recogiera&nbsp;y&nbsp;me&nbsp;llevara&nbsp;</em></strong><strong><em>a&nbsp;casa,pero&nbsp;nadie,</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;no&nbsp;habia&nbsp;nadie...la&nbsp;gente&nbsp;cogio&nbsp;sus&nbsp;mochilas,empez&oacute;&nbsp;</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>a&nbsp;subir&nbsp;a&nbsp;los&nbsp;camiones&nbsp;y&nbsp;a&nbsp;dirigirse&nbsp;a&nbsp;los&nbsp;campamentos...</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Mi&nbsp;primera&nbsp;parada&nbsp;&quot;CAMPAMENTO&nbsp;27&nbsp;DE&nbsp;FEBRERO&quot;&nbsp;,</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em><strong><em>&nbsp;casa&nbsp;de&nbsp;Lumi,</em></strong><strong><em>all&iacute;&nbsp;viv&iacute;&nbsp;unos&nbsp;dias&nbsp;maravillos,intensos,&nbsp;</em></strong></em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em><strong><em>inolvidables...el&nbsp;te,&nbsp;los&nbsp;bailes,las&nbsp;</em></strong><strong><em>comidas,las&nbsp;escuelas...</em></strong></em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em><strong><em>de&nbsp;cada&nbsp;sitio&nbsp;visitado,&nbsp;de&nbsp;cada&nbsp;Saharaui&nbsp;y&nbsp;sobre&nbsp;</em></strong>   </em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>todo&nbsp;de&nbsp;cada&nbsp;ni&ntilde;o&nbsp;aprend&iacute;&nbsp;a&nbsp;apreciar&nbsp;todo&nbsp;lo&nbsp;que&nbsp;tengo,</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;a&nbsp;mirar&nbsp;hacia</em></strong> <strong><em>adelante&nbsp;con&nbsp;la&nbsp;cabeza&nbsp;bien&nbsp;alta,&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>a&nbsp;ser&nbsp;feliz&nbsp;con&nbsp;muy poco...me&nbsp;ense&ntilde;aron</em></strong> <strong><em>tanto...&nbsp;</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Mi&nbsp;segunda&nbsp;parada:&nbsp;&quot;CAMPAMENTO AG&Uuml;ENIT&quot;,</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> el de Salek,mi ni&ntilde;o,</em></strong> <strong><em>aunque&nbsp;ahora&nbsp;ya&nbsp;tiene&nbsp;19&nbsp;a&ntilde;os...</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;<strong><em>que&nbsp;emocionante&nbsp;fue&nbsp;el&nbsp;reencuetro...</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>mi&nbsp;padre&nbsp;y&nbsp;el&nbsp;se&nbsp;encontraron&nbsp;despues&nbsp;de&nbsp;6&nbsp;a&ntilde;os...</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>todavia&nbsp;recuerdo&nbsp;sus&nbsp;cara</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>y&nbsp;las&nbsp;l&aacute;s&nbsp;lagrimas&nbsp;recorriendo&nbsp;las&nbsp;mejillas&nbsp;de&nbsp;los&nbsp;dos,</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>cuanto&nbsp;se&nbsp;echaban&nbsp;de</em></strong> <strong><em>menos...</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>De&nbsp;el,&nbsp;de&nbsp;sus&nbsp;amigos&nbsp;y&nbsp;hermanos,&nbsp;aprend&iacute;&nbsp;como&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>vivian&nbsp;all&iacute;&nbsp;los&nbsp;adolescentes,</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>como&nbsp;con&nbsp;4&nbsp;piedras&nbsp;y&nbsp;un&nbsp;alambre&nbsp;pasaban&nbsp;toda&nbsp;la&nbsp;tarde,&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>sus&nbsp;ganas&nbsp;de&nbsp;luchar</em></strong> <strong><em>por&nbsp;su&nbsp;tierra...</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>He&nbsp;aprendido&nbsp;tanto&nbsp;en&nbsp;este&nbsp;viaje,nunca&nbsp;olvidare&nbsp;sus&nbsp;caras,</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;sus&nbsp;sonrisas,</em></strong><strong><em>sus&nbsp;ganas&nbsp;de&nbsp;vivir,el&nbsp;sentir&nbsp;de&nbsp;la&nbsp;arena&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>del&nbsp;desierto&nbsp;rozando&nbsp;mi&nbsp;cara...</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Nunca&nbsp;olvidare&nbsp;aquella&nbsp;tierra,aquella&nbsp;gente,&nbsp;mis&nbsp;dos&nbsp;ni&ntilde;os...</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>no&nbsp;se&nbsp;cuando </em></strong><strong><em>volver&eacute;,&nbsp;no&nbsp;si&nbsp;siquiera&nbsp;si&nbsp;los&nbsp;volver&eacute;&nbsp;a&nbsp;ver,</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>pero&nbsp;en&nbsp;mi&nbsp;coraz&oacute;n&nbsp;siempre </em></strong><strong><em>estaran&nbsp;esas&nbsp;dos&nbsp;personitas</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;que&nbsp;cambiaron&nbsp;mi&nbsp;vida,&nbsp;mi&nbsp;mundo...</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Recuerdo&nbsp;las&nbsp;ultimas&nbsp;palabras...</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Salek,&nbsp;Lumi, nunca me olvides,aunque la distancia</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> nos separe y</em></strong> <strong><em>podamos&nbsp;hablar&nbsp;mucho,siempre&nbsp;os</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;recordare&nbsp;pues&nbsp;os&nbsp;llevo&nbsp;en&nbsp;lo&nbsp;</em></strong> <strong><em>mas&nbsp;profundo&nbsp;de&nbsp;mi</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;coraz&oacute;n...&nbsp;</em></strong>   
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>			<p>
			Leer <strong><a href="http://mireia.obolog.com/recuerdos-61586" title="Recuerdos...">Recuerdos...</a></strong> en <a href="http://mireia.obolog.com" title="Miri">Hay veces que estar triste me hace reir...</a>
			</p>
			 ]]>
		</description>
				<author>Myreya</author>
				<category>sentimientos</category>
				<comments>http://mireia.obolog.com/recuerdos-61586#formulario</comments>
		<guid>http://mireia.obolog.com/recuerdos-61586</guid>
		<pubDate>Thu, 14 Feb 2008 23:27:25 +0100</pubDate>
	</item>
	<item>
		<title>El dia de los enamorados</title>
		<link>http://mireia.obolog.com/dia-enamorados-61468</link>
		<description>
			<![CDATA[
			<p>
<strong>Hoy es ese dia,ese dia del que hay gente que le encanta hablar...</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>y otra&nbsp;que mejo quiere pasarlo como otor dia mas,sin darle mayor</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong> importancia...&nbsp; </strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong> Para&nbsp;mi...no&nbsp;deja&nbsp;de&nbsp;ser&nbsp;un&nbsp;dia mas,me levanto, voy a clase, vuelvo...</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>lo mismo de todos los dias...aunque,porque no reconocerlo? me paso</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong> el dia esperando un feliz San Valentin de esa persona que significa </strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>tanto para mi...y cuando lo recibo una sonrisa inunda mi cara y no </strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>dejo de sonreir en toda la tarde,porque es cierto, es una fiesta muy </strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>comercial, pero decidme? quien no espera que ese dia alguien llame</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong> a su puerta, le envie un mensaje,una postal...y le diga: </strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>FELIZ DIA DE SAN VALENTIN!</em> </strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong> A&nbsp;todo&nbsp;el&nbsp;mundo&nbsp;este&nbsp;enamorado&nbsp;o&nbsp;no,&nbsp;le&nbsp;deseo&nbsp;un&nbsp;feliz&nbsp;dia,</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>&nbsp;en&nbsp;especial&nbsp;a&nbsp;ti&nbsp;Dani,&nbsp;Feliz&nbsp;dia&nbsp;de&nbsp;San&nbsp;Valentin. </strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong> &nbsp;Te&nbsp;quiero.&nbsp;</strong> 
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>			<p>
			Leer <strong><a href="http://mireia.obolog.com/dia-enamorados-61468" title="El dia de los enamorados">El dia de los enamorados</a></strong> en <a href="http://mireia.obolog.com" title="Miri">Hay veces que estar triste me hace reir...</a>
			</p>
			 ]]>
		</description>
				<author>Myreya</author>
				<category>reflexiones</category>
				<comments>http://mireia.obolog.com/dia-enamorados-61468#formulario</comments>
		<guid>http://mireia.obolog.com/dia-enamorados-61468</guid>
		<pubDate>Thu, 14 Feb 2008 14:06:05 +0100</pubDate>
	</item>
	<item>
		<title>Tristeza en el corazón...</title>
		<link>http://mireia.obolog.com/tristeza-corazon-61344</link>
		<description>
			<![CDATA[
			<p>
<strong><em>Hoy me siento triste...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Sonaba&nbsp;el&nbsp;telefono&nbsp;y&nbsp;al&nbsp;cogerlo&nbsp;el&nbsp;coraz&oacute;n&nbsp;se&nbsp;llen&ograve;&nbsp;de&nbsp;alegria...</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>si&nbsp;era&nbsp;ella,&nbsp;era&nbsp;mi&nbsp;peque&ntilde;a...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Os&nbsp;preguntareis&nbsp;y&nbsp;quien&nbsp;ella?&nbsp;ella&nbsp;es&nbsp;Lumi&nbsp;mi&nbsp;peque&ntilde;a&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Saharaui&nbsp;que&nbsp;desde&nbsp;</em></strong> <strong><em>hace&nbsp;5&nbsp;a&ntilde;os&nbsp;nos&nbsp;ha&nbsp;visitado&nbsp;durante&nbsp;los</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;mese&nbsp;de&nbsp;verano,ella&nbsp;al&nbsp;igual <strong><em>que&nbsp;Salek&nbsp;han&nbsp;sido&nbsp;nuestra alegria,hemos&nbsp;pasado&nbsp;tantas&nbsp;cosas&nbsp;juntos...</em></strong> </em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>El&nbsp;verano&nbsp;pasado&nbsp;era&nbsp;su&nbsp;&uacute;ltimo&nbsp;a&ntilde;o&nbsp;en&nbsp;Espa&ntilde;a,&nbsp;pero&nbsp;debido</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;a&nbsp;que&nbsp;esta&nbsp;</em></strong> <strong><em>enferma&nbsp;del&nbsp;coraz&oacute;n teniamos&nbsp;la&nbsp;esperanza&nbsp;de&nbsp;</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>volver&nbsp;a&nbsp;verla&nbsp;este&nbsp;a&ntilde;o...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>y&nbsp;asi&nbsp;lo&nbsp;creiamos...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Pero&nbsp;entonces&nbsp;son&oacute;&nbsp;el&nbsp;telefono...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>No&nbsp;era&nbsp;ella,era&nbsp;Salka...un&nbsp;prima&nbsp;suya...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Lumi&nbsp;seguramente&nbsp;no&nbsp;podra&nbsp;ir&nbsp;este&nbsp;a&ntilde;o-dijo...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>y&nbsp;fue&nbsp;entonces&nbsp;cuando&nbsp;mi&nbsp;mundo&nbsp;se&nbsp;derrumb&oacute;,como podia ser?</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>pensava&nbsp;que&nbsp;ya&nbsp;estava&nbsp;todo&nbsp;arreglado,las&nbsp;fotos&nbsp;los&nbsp;papeles&nbsp;del&nbsp;medico...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>pero&nbsp;ella&nbsp;no&nbsp;podia&nbsp;venir...la&nbsp;causa?&nbsp;es&nbsp;demasiado&nbsp;mayor?no&nbsp;puede</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>ser...sus&nbsp;padres?&nbsp;si,sera&nbsp;lo&nbsp;mas&nbsp;seguro...su&nbsp;padre...sabia que no la </em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>dejaria&nbsp;volver,tenia&nbsp;ese&nbsp;presentimiento,pues&nbsp;le&nbsp;serviria&nbsp;como&nbsp;criada...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>ahora&nbsp;con&nbsp;doce&nbsp;a&ntilde;os&nbsp;era&nbsp;toda&nbsp;una&nbsp;mujercita...pero&nbsp;yo&nbsp;sigo&nbsp;sin&nbsp;hacerme</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;a&nbsp;la&nbsp;idea&nbsp;de&nbsp;no&nbsp;volverla&nbsp;a&nbsp;ver&nbsp;rondando&nbsp;por&nbsp;mi habitaci&oacute;n,riendo,</em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>jugando,</em></strong> <strong><em>poniendose&nbsp;mi&nbsp;ropa,ba&ntilde;andose&nbsp;en&nbsp;la&nbsp;playa...tantas&nbsp;<strong><em>emociones</em></strong></em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em><strong><em>,tantos&nbsp;</em></strong> <strong><em>recuerdo, que no puedo evitar llorar de tristeza mientras escribo</em></strong></em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em><strong><em> estas <strong><em>palabras...</em></strong> </em></strong></em></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>No&nbsp;te&nbsp;preocupes!-&nbsp;me&nbsp;dicen&nbsp;mis&nbsp;padres- tendremos otra ni&ntilde;a...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Tienen&nbsp;raz&oacute;n&nbsp;pero&nbsp;a&nbsp;mi&nbsp;peque&ntilde;a&nbsp;siempre&nbsp;la&nbsp;llevar&eacute;&nbsp;en&nbsp;mi&nbsp;coraz&oacute;n...</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>LUMI&nbsp;TE&nbsp;ECHAR&Eacute;&nbsp;DE&nbsp;MENOS!&nbsp;</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>			<p>
			Leer <strong><a href="http://mireia.obolog.com/tristeza-corazon-61344" title="Tristeza en el corazón...">Tristeza en el corazón...</a></strong> en <a href="http://mireia.obolog.com" title="Miri">Hay veces que estar triste me hace reir...</a>
			</p>
			 ]]>
		</description>
				<author>Myreya</author>
				<category>sentimientos</category>
				<comments>http://mireia.obolog.com/tristeza-corazon-61344#formulario</comments>
		<guid>http://mireia.obolog.com/tristeza-corazon-61344</guid>
		<pubDate>Wed, 13 Feb 2008 22:12:33 +0100</pubDate>
	</item>
	<item>
		<title>CAMPAÑA HUMANITARIA</title>
		<link>http://mireia.obolog.com/campana-humanitaria-61269</link>
		<description>
			<![CDATA[
			<p>
&nbsp;<strong>Como cada a&ntilde;o las asociaciones de ayuda al pueblo Saharau</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong> empiezan <strong>sus campa&ntilde;as...</strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>&nbsp;Una&nbsp;de&nbsp;ellas&nbsp;es la recogida de alimentos para los campamentos,</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong> en la que<strong>recogemos&nbsp;arroz, aceite&nbsp;i&nbsp;azucar...</strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>Durante&nbsp;los&nbsp;meses&nbsp;de&nbsp;febrero&nbsp;y&nbsp;marzo&nbsp;se&nbsp;visitaran&nbsp;escuelas,</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>&nbsp;institutos,<strong>tiendas&nbsp;de&nbsp;alimentos,etc,con la intencion de </strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><strong>recoger la mayor cantidad <strong>posible...&nbsp;</strong></strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>&nbsp;Desde&nbsp;aqui&nbsp;me&nbsp;gustaria&nbsp;hacer&nbsp;un&nbsp;llamamiento&nbsp;a&nbsp;toda&nbsp;la&nbsp;</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>gente&nbsp;que&nbsp;pueda,<strong>o&nbsp;quiera&nbsp;colaborar&nbsp;con&nbsp;nosotros...Para</strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><strong>&nbsp;nosotros&nbsp;tan&nbsp;solo&nbsp;pueden&nbsp;ser&nbsp;un <strong>par&nbsp;de&nbsp;euros,&nbsp;para&nbsp;ellos&nbsp;</strong></strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong><strong><strong>es&nbsp;un&nbsp;mundo,es&nbsp;tal&nbsp;vez&nbsp;comida&nbsp;para&nbsp;largas&nbsp;semanas...</strong></strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>&nbsp;La&nbsp;comida&nbsp;que&nbsp;se&nbsp;recoja&nbsp;ira&nbsp;directamente&nbsp;a&nbsp;los&nbsp;</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>campamentos&nbsp;y&nbsp;una <strong>vez&nbsp;all&iacute;&nbsp;ser&aacute;&nbsp;repartida&nbsp;por&nbsp;familias...</strong></strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>&nbsp;Muchas&nbsp;gracias&nbsp;a&nbsp;todos...&nbsp;</strong>
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>			<p>
			Leer <strong><a href="http://mireia.obolog.com/campana-humanitaria-61269" title="CAMPAÑA HUMANITARIA">CAMPAÑA HUMANITARIA</a></strong> en <a href="http://mireia.obolog.com" title="Miri">Hay veces que estar triste me hace reir...</a>
			</p>
			 ]]>
		</description>
				<author>Myreya</author>
				<category>solidaridad</category>
				<comments>http://mireia.obolog.com/campana-humanitaria-61269#formulario</comments>
		<guid>http://mireia.obolog.com/campana-humanitaria-61269</guid>
		<pubDate>Wed, 13 Feb 2008 15:45:11 +0100</pubDate>
	</item>
	<item>
		<title>Como empezar...</title>
		<link>http://mireia.obolog.com/como-empezar-61263</link>
		<description>
			<![CDATA[
			<p>
  &nbsp;<strong>&nbsp;Como empezar este blog, como empezar a escribir si es la primera</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong> vez que lo hago...me vienen tantas cosas a la cabeza, tantas </strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>emociones vividas en estos a&ntilde;os... </strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>&nbsp;&nbsp;Podria&nbsp;empezar&nbsp;con&nbsp;mi&nbsp;vida,&nbsp;o&nbsp;tal&nbsp;vez&nbsp;con&nbsp;algun&nbsp;poema&nbsp;bonito&nbsp;</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>que&nbsp;indicara&nbsp;un&nbsp;gran&nbsp;comienzo...pero&nbsp;al&nbsp;final&nbsp;he&nbsp;decidido&nbsp;escribir</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>&nbsp;una&nbsp;canci&oacute;n,una&nbsp;cancion&nbsp;que&nbsp;para&nbsp;mi&nbsp;significa&nbsp;mucho,para&nbsp;mi&nbsp;</strong>
</p>
<p>
<strong>mundo&nbsp;significa&nbsp;mucho...</strong>
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>
<p>
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<strong><em><u>&quot;Los&nbsp;ni&ntilde;os&nbsp;de&nbsp;la&nbsp;guerra&quot;&nbsp;(&nbsp;Sergio&nbsp;Dalma)</u></em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
  &nbsp; <strong><em>&quot;Que&nbsp;piensas&nbsp;si&nbsp;te&nbsp;digo,&nbsp;si&nbsp;te&nbsp;cuento,</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> que&nbsp;no&nbsp;sabe&nbsp;leer&nbsp;porque&nbsp;son&nbsp;angeles&nbsp;que&nbsp;luchan&nbsp;que&nbsp;se&nbsp;entregan,</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> al&nbsp;momento&nbsp;de&nbsp;nacer...</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>sus&nbsp;juegos&nbsp;son&nbsp;batallas,</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
  &nbsp;<strong><em>sus&nbsp;deseos&nbsp;van&nbsp;en&nbsp;busca&nbsp;de&nbsp;la&nbsp;paz...</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>no&nbsp;cruzan&nbsp;las&nbsp;fronteras,&nbsp;se&nbsp;atrincheran</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>desertores&nbsp;de&nbsp;la&nbsp;edad...</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>A&nbsp;quien&nbsp;creer&nbsp;ven&nbsp;ami...</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> soldados&nbsp;sin&nbsp;galones,sin&nbsp;desfiles,ni&nbsp;uniformes&nbsp;que&nbsp;vestir,</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> soldados&nbsp;portadores,&nbsp;defensores&nbsp;de&nbsp;las&nbsp;ganas&nbsp;de vivir</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>A quien&nbsp;creer,&nbsp;ven&nbsp;a&nbsp;mi...&nbsp;</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> Sus&nbsp;sue&ntilde;os&nbsp;quedan&nbsp;rotos&nbsp;por&nbsp;caciques,</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>
<div align="left">
<strong><em> que&nbsp;no&nbsp;saben&nbsp;que&nbsp;es&nbsp;llorar.</em></strong>  
</div>
<p>
<strong><em> No&nbsp;lo&nbsp;dudes,me&nbsp;revelo,</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> contra&nbsp;esta cruel,&nbsp;pasiva&nbsp;sociedad.</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> A quien&nbsp;creer&nbsp;ven&nbsp;a&nbsp;mi...</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> Son&nbsp;los&nbsp;ni&ntilde;os&nbsp;de&nbsp;la&nbsp;guerra,&nbsp;son&nbsp;los&nbsp;ni&ntilde;os&nbsp;de&nbsp;la&nbsp;paz</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em> &nbsp;su&nbsp;futuro&nbsp;esta&nbsp;en&nbsp;las&nbsp;armas...&nbsp;y&nbsp;moriran...</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>Dime&nbsp;si&nbsp;despues,</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;las&nbsp;palabras&nbsp;que&nbsp;se&nbsp;inventan,</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>los&nbsp;que&nbsp;quieren&nbsp;gobernar</em></strong> 
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;son&nbsp;palabras&nbsp;que&nbsp;conocen&nbsp;la&nbsp;realidad...</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>dime&nbsp;si&nbsp;despues sus&nbsp;deseos&nbsp;son&nbsp;ejemplos,</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>para&nbsp;todos&nbsp;los&nbsp;demas,</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>y&nbsp;defienden&nbsp;sus&nbsp;ideas&nbsp;de&nbsp;libertad...&quot;</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
<strong><em>&nbsp;</em></strong>  
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>
<p>
&nbsp;
</p>			<p>
			Leer <strong><a href="http://mireia.obolog.com/como-empezar-61263" title="Como empezar...">Como empezar...</a></strong> en <a href="http://mireia.obolog.com" title="Miri">Hay veces que estar triste me hace reir...</a>
			</p>
			 ]]>
		</description>
				<author>Myreya</author>
				<category>canciones</category>
				<comments>http://mireia.obolog.com/como-empezar-61263#formulario</comments>
		<guid>http://mireia.obolog.com/como-empezar-61263</guid>
		<pubDate>Wed, 13 Feb 2008 15:24:40 +0100</pubDate>
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