<?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-2133929669346027425</id><updated>2011-11-27T17:03:37.256-07:00</updated><category term='Poem'/><category term='Feelings'/><category term='Religion'/><category term='Sex'/><category term='Love'/><title type='text'>Ricardo's Corner</title><subtitle type='html'>Freedom is a Human Right but it's easier to find Flowers in the Sky</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ricardo Mariscal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17912505406405142392</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKDGZhrd7O8/TSuqqukLQOI/AAAAAAAAADs/Qi1Tf-62suE/S220/My%2BEye.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133929669346027425.post-4882763951073362986</id><published>2011-08-09T20:50:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T20:51:36.980-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Religion'/><title type='text'>I'm An Atheist</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ciao Amici,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'm very skeptical about Religion and God. It has nothing to do with family because I grow up in a Roman Catholic home and my parents went to church every Sunday. And now, I don't like priests. I did once meet a Pastor who was quite decent, but that was in Russia. However, I find priests the most difficult to tolerate.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I'm sure many of you would ask me why I dislike priests this much, and here is my answer: Priests open their arms, smile piously and make you believe that they love everyone equal, and they preach a theology of tolerance and respect but they are the firsts to point out the members of their own congregation if they do something wrong and other people outside their community, too. And who gave them that power? They say God did, but sometimes I think priests like me don't believe in God at all. Instead, they are in love with a Jesus stereotype, the good pure man in sandals, velvety face and warm welcoming arms.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't want boring sermons and promises of punishment. They say God forgive us all and they are always condemning us to an eternal suffer of flames. Who are they to point their fingers to us? Isn't God the only one that can judge us? Priests, Bishops, Cardinals, Popes, they are all the same; expensive zucchettos, traditional vestments and burning eyes as if they carry hell inside them.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I don't need a Church to tell me what I do is good or wrong. I don't need to be told by a congregation that I am heading to an eternal damnation. Basically, religions are extreme groups that expand terror to every human on this planet. They do whatever is necessary to get what they want even if they have to fight governments and other religions. Be free!!! Break the chains!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Il tuo Ricardo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2133929669346027425-4882763951073362986?l=ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/feeds/4882763951073362986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2133929669346027425&amp;postID=4882763951073362986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default/4882763951073362986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default/4882763951073362986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/2011/08/im-atheist.html' title='I&apos;m An Atheist'/><author><name>Ricardo Mariscal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17912505406405142392</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKDGZhrd7O8/TSuqqukLQOI/AAAAAAAAADs/Qi1Tf-62suE/S220/My%2BEye.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133929669346027425.post-5678367357558964525</id><published>2011-07-25T21:28:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T21:29:24.469-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Feelings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Puzzle Of Feelings</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ciao Amici,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It seems like it was yesterday my mother came to my work place at the middle of the night with worrying eyes and straggling voice. &lt;i&gt;–“You can love whoever you want. I support you. I'm ok with your decision.”&lt;/i&gt; She said. For a moment and just for a moment I didn't know what to say. &lt;i&gt;–“Mom, what are talking about?”&lt;/i&gt; I asked. Many things crossed to my mind at the moment. Maybe it was the weather that was making my mother act this way, she doesn't appreciate hot temperatures and that night was burning.&lt;i&gt; –“I read your journal and I know what you've been trough.” &lt;/i&gt;Her eyes were wet and I was recovering for her first statement. With a very serious voice I said: &lt;i&gt;–“Mom, that wasn't my journal, that's the book I'm writing.”&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My mother and I have a very open communication about almost anything; however, that day was the first time she asked about my sexual life. I never thought we were going to have that chat... I hate labels and I don't really like to put my private life on the public eye. &lt;i&gt;–“Mom, I love you, but I don't think what happen in my bedroom is your business or anybody business.” &lt;/i&gt;Yes, I'm that kind of person that doesn't let anyone get involved in his life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You always learn from life and the people you love and hate. I know people will say this all the time, but there are moments of life when you need to grow up and become responsible. I learned the best lessons of life by observing my surroundings…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Fearless. That's my favorite word these days. I see sexuality and sexual preferences from a very clinical point of view. Like when parents tell their children to eat broccoli and they don't want to eat this because they don't like broccoli; how can you possible know you are not going to like it if you don't try it? There's nothing to lose!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Unlike many people, I don't fall in love with a physique or a sexual organ. I fall in love with a smile, a touch and those little moments of life that makes you go aw! My first love was a beautiful lady, five years my senior, and yes, she had a beautiful smile and gracious red lips.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why do we care so much about other's personal life? Maybe it has something to do with the simple fact of responsibility?! Yes, we sometimes feel responsible for someone else's life. It's not related with family ties or friendship. We feel like it's our job to be there for that person, always there, waiting for something. I used to be that way, an obsessive friend, boyfriend, lover and fan; some people would call it “TV Love”. We need to take care of ourselves and leave the others live their life's or we will forget about what is important, us. “I'm a Lion in heat” seems to be the perfect phrase for my life at this moment. I'm ready to fight for who I am and not for someone else.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And where am I? Trying! Trying to enjoy life, and I suggest you do the same.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Il tuo Ricardo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2133929669346027425-5678367357558964525?l=ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/feeds/5678367357558964525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2133929669346027425&amp;postID=5678367357558964525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default/5678367357558964525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default/5678367357558964525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/2011/07/puzzle-of-feelings.html' title='Puzzle Of Feelings'/><author><name>Ricardo Mariscal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17912505406405142392</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKDGZhrd7O8/TSuqqukLQOI/AAAAAAAAADs/Qi1Tf-62suE/S220/My%2BEye.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133929669346027425.post-5316229883056086084</id><published>2011-06-08T12:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T12:39:52.566-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>Sex</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;What is it about sex that has inspired poets, artists to discuss the action of having sex for generations? Sex has driven us to the madness… We will even cross oceans just to obtain it. It's inspiring for my point of view! The instinctual, genetic desire to reproduce is so strong that in extreme cases we will kill for it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Sex is on our minds constantly, no matter the time of the day or the situation we are facing at the moment; and if that is the case, than why are we always so shame about our biological needs? It's very interesting to see reactions of people when the topic of sex came up. As society, we try to keep everything related to sex hidden, like if this is a prohibit topic of conversation. The pleasure we derive from sex is extremely high like no other, no matter if is hetero or homosexual.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Religions have an important paper when it comes to sexual education; they normally make a taboo out of every subject that has something to do with sex. A good example is the Catholic Church who condemned the use of condoms and methods of birth control.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Public schools teach our kids very little about sex, and a comprehensive sexuality education is needed; the only way we will see sex as a normal part of who we are is if we receive the proper education about this matter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;In bed, after having some hot sex, my sex partner and I started talking about sex and the only thing we agreed is that safe sex is also important, so please learn more about sex and remember that safe sex is better sex!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2133929669346027425-5316229883056086084?l=ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/feeds/5316229883056086084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2133929669346027425&amp;postID=5316229883056086084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default/5316229883056086084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default/5316229883056086084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/2011/06/sex.html' title='Sex'/><author><name>Ricardo Mariscal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17912505406405142392</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKDGZhrd7O8/TSuqqukLQOI/AAAAAAAAADs/Qi1Tf-62suE/S220/My%2BEye.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133929669346027425.post-1244202883252962933</id><published>2011-04-20T22:11:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T03:24:49.828-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poem'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>Dreaming Sea</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sitting by the sea, watching the waves go... &lt;br&gt;Thinking about how wonderful it would be&lt;br&gt;If you were with me... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The two of us on a desert island &lt;br&gt;No one is prevented... In an ideal world &lt;br&gt;Filled with fantasies, memories and joys... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The two of us facing the sea, watching the horizon &lt;br&gt;Where we see the sunset.... &lt;br&gt;In love.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sitting by the sea... &lt;br&gt;Embraced passionately&lt;br&gt;With the same desires and goals... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Because that&amp;#8217;s love &lt;br&gt;And consists of a single goal... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But no... No!!!&lt;br&gt;I am in my house &lt;br&gt;In my deepest dream, &lt;br&gt;Where my imagination flies&lt;br&gt;And fly in a world of peace.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In my dream we were together,&lt;br&gt;Where there was only you, me, and the sea.&lt;br&gt;Where it was difficult to breathe,&lt;br&gt;Where our story wouldn&amp;#8217;t end.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Your piercing eyes,&lt;br&gt;Like the sun on my skin&lt;br&gt;And transparent as alone water could be.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wanted to tell you&lt;br&gt;Everything I felt for you,&lt;br&gt;Just to have you there&lt;br&gt;And feel you as mine as a part of me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Your hands caressed my hair,&lt;br&gt;Your mouth kissed my neck&lt;br&gt;When I kissed your lips,&lt;br&gt;Time stopped there.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was so real all I felt,&lt;br&gt;Now I just hope to sleep again.&lt;br&gt;To feel your presence,&lt;br&gt;And love.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Where would we be?&lt;br&gt;Loving us to the end...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2133929669346027425-1244202883252962933?l=ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/feeds/1244202883252962933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2133929669346027425&amp;postID=1244202883252962933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default/1244202883252962933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default/1244202883252962933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/2011/04/dreaming-sea.html' title='Dreaming Sea'/><author><name>Ricardo Mariscal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17912505406405142392</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKDGZhrd7O8/TSuqqukLQOI/AAAAAAAAADs/Qi1Tf-62suE/S220/My%2BEye.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2133929669346027425.post-5012833090103871551</id><published>2011-01-25T16:17:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-21T14:11:18.404-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Ciao Amici,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Love can be very intriguing, sometimes when I'm home alone I think about the power of love and I ask myself so many questions that I can't even answer… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Why do we feel? It's very hard to understand feelings, especially if you think you don't have them. I'm one of those people who don't feel love very easily; I can't fall in love with someone I just met or have that type of feeling growing on in me. My friends think is because of my turbulent past but I think it's just me growing up, becoming an adult, being responsible, I'm not saying I'm a responsible adult and after all, who is responsible? Ourselves! We are responsible of our own feelings and actions but that is very difficult to put them in practice when you are surrender by a community who is judging every movement you make. However, if you think it through, we are always judging ourselves I'm fat, I'm ugly, etc. we are never satisfied with what we have or all the good things we have made over the years, we always look at our “bad side”. If you want to be happy, stop judging yourself, be who you want to be and live the way you want to live your life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Is love a human condition or a decision? I believe we were born with the ability to love and we can decide what we want to do with it, we can choose who we want to love but that doesn't mean that the other person will love us back. There is always one person who loves more than the other… Love became fragile and we stopped dreaming! Today is a good day to start loving yourself more, to leave all the things that made you cry behind, stop smoking and eat healthier. If you don't leave the past go you will experience something called LONELINESS! Monogamy will win the war sooner or later, and why not make it sooner? Find yourself a girlfriend/boyfriend and stop jumping from bed to bed. I'm sure you will feel much better, maybe not at the beginning but you will feel new and loved every day. Love grows with time but we have to water it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;In conclusion, love is a beautiful feeling we will experience at least once in our lifetime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Il tuo Ricardo!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2133929669346027425-5012833090103871551?l=ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/feeds/5012833090103871551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2133929669346027425&amp;postID=5012833090103871551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default/5012833090103871551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2133929669346027425/posts/default/5012833090103871551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ricardo-mariscal.blogspot.com/2011/01/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Ricardo Mariscal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17912505406405142392</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mKDGZhrd7O8/TSuqqukLQOI/AAAAAAAAADs/Qi1Tf-62suE/S220/My%2BEye.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
