<?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-640374877196604863</id><updated>2012-01-18T10:00:51.365-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Laura Martínez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15218650396519363727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></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-640374877196604863.post-4704205501762806667</id><published>2011-11-25T09:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T03:12:21.377-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Alternative Mouse Plot</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;If I would have found that dead mouse, I wouldn't have touched it. But if I would have to take the revenge I would...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;"When we found the dead mouse we all tought of Mrs Pratchett. We tought that we could take revenge to her for all she had done to us. We sat down and started to think what we could do. Finally one of my friends said: few people goes to her sweet shop, so we could upset them and make she lose the only customers she has.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;We don't know exactly how but we went the same afternoon, there, in front of her sweet shop, waiting for a customer. Sudduenly it was comming to us a man who looked as angry as Mrs Prachett so we decided he must to be the victim. He entered and we all too. Mrs Pratchetts wasn't on the shop, maybe she was inside the storeage.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;We pretended to be Mrs Prachetts assistants so we attended that man.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;He asked for some acid drops, two sherbet suckers and few liquorice bootlaces. And while he was looking to another place, I put the dead mouse inside the bag with the others sweets. He gave us the money and he left with the dead mouse inside his bag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Next day, Mrs Prachett told us that she knew we had done that to her customer and that she would take a revenge too! "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ThuD4yuDdf4/Ts_N9tlsQlI/AAAAAAAAAB0/S1UVIuuGzn8/s1600/sweetsmouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="216" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ThuD4yuDdf4/Ts_N9tlsQlI/AAAAAAAAAB0/S1UVIuuGzn8/s320/sweetsmouse.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/640374877196604863-4704205501762806667?l=laurasnotebook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/feeds/4704205501762806667/comments/default' title='Comentaris del missatge'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/2011/11/alternative-mouse-plot.html#comment-form' title='0 comentaris'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default/4704205501762806667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default/4704205501762806667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/2011/11/alternative-mouse-plot.html' title='An Alternative Mouse Plot'/><author><name>Laura Martínez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15218650396519363727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ThuD4yuDdf4/Ts_N9tlsQlI/AAAAAAAAAB0/S1UVIuuGzn8/s72-c/sweetsmouse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-640374877196604863.post-5592744830291034712</id><published>2011-11-20T11:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T11:30:58.528-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My greatest ambition when I was a child</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5a_ALaG4Np8/TslUgc6lQhI/AAAAAAAAABs/6SkFl2hu7HA/s1600/lluna.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5a_ALaG4Np8/TslUgc6lQhI/AAAAAAAAABs/6SkFl2hu7HA/s1600/lluna.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Whitout hesitating, my greatest ambition when I was a child was to visit the moon. I dreamed about visiting the moon, speaking with it, sleeping in it... &amp;nbsp;I think it was fruit of singing a song in the nursery that was about a boy that constructed his own rocket and went to vist the moon and they had a good time together, so I wanted also to go and to be the moon's friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;As most of the childs in the world I wanted to be an astronaut!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;But this ambition longed very short time, but I think it was what I really felt I would like to do. My parents has told me that I wanted to be a child teacher since I was six years old, and I still want it. I remember me, in my house, with all my dolls put in the sofa watching the little blackboard, and teaching them some basic maths, or how to sing childs song that I had in the CDs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I also wanted to grow up, to be a woman who has had a little child, who has married with a really pretty boy, who has her own house and her own car. I loved to make-up my face like a big woman and to walk a doll with the stroller in my terrace, like if I were a mother walking her baby in the park.These were the things I wished to have and to do.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;But it didn't obsessionate me because I was happy with my friends in the school and having fun in the park that most of the times I didn't tink about what I wanted to, I only thought it when I was bored watching the TV advertisments.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DpCcoMfm9AA/TslUbrVbK6I/AAAAAAAAABk/pRjmdryn1mY/s1600/girl_teaching.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DpCcoMfm9AA/TslUbrVbK6I/AAAAAAAAABk/pRjmdryn1mY/s320/girl_teaching.gif" width="267" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/640374877196604863-5592744830291034712?l=laurasnotebook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/feeds/5592744830291034712/comments/default' title='Comentaris del missatge'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-greatest-ambition-when-i-was-child.html#comment-form' title='0 comentaris'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default/5592744830291034712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default/5592744830291034712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-greatest-ambition-when-i-was-child.html' title='My greatest ambition when I was a child'/><author><name>Laura Martínez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15218650396519363727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5a_ALaG4Np8/TslUgc6lQhI/AAAAAAAAABs/6SkFl2hu7HA/s72-c/lluna.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-640374877196604863.post-3681020532209435208</id><published>2011-11-20T10:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T10:57:29.513-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My favourite candy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Every&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;summer, my sister and I go to the village of our grandparents. We stay there for about one month. In the village there live my two grandparents, so we stayed with ones most of the day and then we went to stay a while in the afternoon with our other grandmother (because my grandfather died four years ago) and we snacked there.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Every day she gave us a piece of bread with ham or the delicious pieces of "fuets" that she bought in the butcher of the village. She didn't want us to eat chocolate every day because she said "you will damage your teeth!".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;However, every weekend she bought us my favourite candy: kinder sorpresa egg! My and my sister were very happy every time she showed us the chocolate egg and we made her a lot of kisses and hugs. When we reacted like this she always said: "you love me more when I gave you sweets!" And then we laughted and she started to make us tickles. When we had finished eatting the egg, we constructed the little toy that there was inside and finally we always gave her a present: the toy constructed. She still has a box full of the little toys we gave to her, she says she will never throw the away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;And to finish I only have to say that she knows that we love her a lot with or without chocolate eggs!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-upBryGTEh38/TslNcl3jmII/AAAAAAAAABc/Uqz_baB685g/s1600/KinderSorpresa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="166" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-upBryGTEh38/TslNcl3jmII/AAAAAAAAABc/Uqz_baB685g/s200/KinderSorpresa.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/640374877196604863-3681020532209435208?l=laurasnotebook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/feeds/3681020532209435208/comments/default' title='Comentaris del missatge'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-favourite-candy.html#comment-form' title='0 comentaris'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default/3681020532209435208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default/3681020532209435208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-favourite-candy.html' title='My favourite candy'/><author><name>Laura Martínez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15218650396519363727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-upBryGTEh38/TslNcl3jmII/AAAAAAAAABc/Uqz_baB685g/s72-c/KinderSorpresa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-640374877196604863.post-3529131204985724616</id><published>2011-11-20T10:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T11:32:22.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My first memory</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;My first memory is when I was two years old. It was my birthday and I only remember a lot of big people around me and a huge chocolate cake infront of my face. My parents has told me that that day I was really happy eatting these cake. I was sitting on the table and all my family, my grandparents, my uncle and my parents were watching me and laughing. I also remember me trying to dance with my dirty hands while my family was singing "happy birthday to you...". They had told me that that was one of the first times that I had ate the most. And I suppose that that is the reason why, nowadays, I love chocolate cakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f_UIEf6D5lY/TslB_nSdHjI/AAAAAAAAABQ/NndLDdcaDVI/s1600/menjant+past%25C3%25ADs%2521.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="318" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f_UIEf6D5lY/TslB_nSdHjI/AAAAAAAAABQ/NndLDdcaDVI/s400/menjant+past%25C3%25ADs%2521.jpeg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;My mother and I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I think that this anecdote has been sticked in my mind since now because it was an event that didn't happen to me all the days, and seeing all my family taking photos and singing maybe shocked me and that's why I still remember that day.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/640374877196604863-3529131204985724616?l=laurasnotebook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/feeds/3529131204985724616/comments/default' title='Comentaris del missatge'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-first-memory.html#comment-form' title='0 comentaris'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default/3529131204985724616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default/3529131204985724616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-first-memory.html' title='My first memory'/><author><name>Laura Martínez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15218650396519363727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f_UIEf6D5lY/TslB_nSdHjI/AAAAAAAAABQ/NndLDdcaDVI/s72-c/menjant+past%25C3%25ADs%2521.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-640374877196604863.post-7718458965598535468</id><published>2011-10-16T04:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-16T04:52:51.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What’s your idea of beauty?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bxy02Yukhk4/TprApB90NMI/AAAAAAAAAA4/8PXq6AfyGBA/s1600/mariposa.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="306" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bxy02Yukhk4/TprApB90NMI/AAAAAAAAAA4/8PXq6AfyGBA/s400/mariposa.png" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--icP_dE2eis/Tpq-pasfvfI/AAAAAAAAAAw/1HNMOkvVOVM/s1600/arboles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--icP_dE2eis/Tpq-pasfvfI/AAAAAAAAAAw/1HNMOkvVOVM/s400/arboles.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;It's easy to develop my sense of beauty because what I like the most is the nature. I have always enjoyed watching fantastic views of the mountains, beautiful sunsets, artistic photos of animals... Maybe this is why I love going to the village of my grandparents. There I feel freedom and contact with the nature.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I think that to develop the sense of beauty in the teenagers the only thing is to show us landscapes to make us think over it. For example, show us a photo like the above, of a tree with his roots. It may make us think about our origins, about where do we come, where are we going... and also which is the best way to go, where does them take to... Finally I think that another teory to develop our sense of beauty is to observe art, but art in the nature, like some butterfly wings, for someone observe them can make them think how powerful and perfect sometimes the nature can be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Laura.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/640374877196604863-7718458965598535468?l=laurasnotebook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/feeds/7718458965598535468/comments/default' title='Comentaris del missatge'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/2011/10/whats-your-idea-of-beauty.html#comment-form' title='0 comentaris'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default/7718458965598535468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/640374877196604863/posts/default/7718458965598535468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://laurasnotebook.blogspot.com/2011/10/whats-your-idea-of-beauty.html' title='What’s your idea of beauty?'/><author><name>Laura Martínez</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15218650396519363727</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bxy02Yukhk4/TprApB90NMI/AAAAAAAAAA4/8PXq6AfyGBA/s72-c/mariposa.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
