tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244812492024-03-20T03:09:51.465-07:00galeria dos mausjosette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-28748678428059923932018-02-01T16:24:00.001-08:002018-02-01T16:24:20.295-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UPEf0nObT142VoJ-m9DLDiS1YlaXu2bNUU9FPkVGrw1m5ho7gYDjj0fwz51M2tvEJruchSgMZPosrx4K0pOO9OnpP-WaUm0VNJB0qxUPiq0TMPAQbGWkGBJopovQ4YOeKI2T/s1600/JaNEIRO+DE+1982+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UPEf0nObT142VoJ-m9DLDiS1YlaXu2bNUU9FPkVGrw1m5ho7gYDjj0fwz51M2tvEJruchSgMZPosrx4K0pOO9OnpP-WaUm0VNJB0qxUPiq0TMPAQbGWkGBJopovQ4YOeKI2T/s400/JaNEIRO+DE+1982+%25283%2529.jpg" width="283" height="400" data-original-width="1043" data-original-height="1475" /></a></div>
1982 - janeiro
josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-85556854113509512502015-03-19T10:02:00.003-07:002015-03-19T10:02:56.160-07:00
Vestidos não choram
Trabalham e ganham menos
Vestidos não morrem sem lutar
Vestidos são usados por mulheres
Burcas são usadas por mulheres
Mulheres são usadas
Mulheres são mães e pais
Mulheres são operárias e empregadas domésticas
Mulheres são juízas
Mulheres são sábias
Mulheres ficam doentes quando mulheres são inocentes
Mulheres são bruxas
Mulheres podem ser más
Mulheres podem ser mais.
08 de março 2015
Josette Lassance
josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-91746869327354971672015-03-19T09:59:00.000-07:002015-03-19T09:59:08.298-07:00eu e Fernando<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWqHfhbmq9Y5gw-k0SJcp4ts2pUSSoNjIQZ5FcARM5oyk5DU338CGyahbYsP6hJxd2Oc96aU_pKqTJtoKyU8z3QpZSSBQf_GIvIec11OLsRggwQqgEnAz_PPaZ76_0dMs6Ltp/s1600/945.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWqHfhbmq9Y5gw-k0SJcp4ts2pUSSoNjIQZ5FcARM5oyk5DU338CGyahbYsP6hJxd2Oc96aU_pKqTJtoKyU8z3QpZSSBQf_GIvIec11OLsRggwQqgEnAz_PPaZ76_0dMs6Ltp/s320/945.jpg" /></a>
josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-43232305484651846322015-01-13T08:41:00.000-08:002015-01-13T08:41:58.236-08:00DOG DESERT - Josette Lassance / tradução Fabíola Marques
It is night here in dog desert ////
The wild west world, among enemies and enemies /////
it is a valley… a desert where men get lost /////
From this very place, where the sight splits up, from the view of the dry road to the cattle skull /////
The wooden ranches cut by the railroad /////
I see all the things submerse in its feelings. Things that we always profane, ////
Without any tenderness, evading the bonds of the holy rituals /////
in this lost hour pieces blend and the emptiness fills the horizon /////
nothing beyond a petty life /////
of traps already set /////
1
it´s night here in dog desert /////
not even the Jasmin shadows fall over the ground in this dry summer, of huge moons /////
where the wind brings desires /////
wild west world /////
good guys, bad guys and bad guys compensate for one another as equals /////
from this very place, we see them all under sand storms /////
to the rifles and shrapnel /////
of shotguns /////
It is night here in dog desert /////
and the day is made of dust, blood and sweat of men /////
who head to /////
a land /////
which will never have an owner, /////
it will be like the nights /////
of velvet and flesh ////
among stone faunas /////
and the black sky luxuries /////
nothing will give you ties /////
where the same face can burn under either the sun or dusk ////
and nothing else can be done ////
we are tired of acid /////
of robot fantasies /////
we are tired of what does not mean /////
engagement /////
here it is night in dog desert /////
lost hour /////
stone hour /////
time to howl to the ashes of the moon.
josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-28365083426559733442014-11-10T05:03:00.002-08:002014-11-10T05:05:17.779-08:00I Encontro Literário 1979 Zacarias Martins e Josette (com uniforme do colégio IEP)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzY8Hvg0R4Nkcumy1NmF3Nb9mlZYLEotPcTCjmTf1h9STVllYg0AXthzBB4otzUKj1il5QxwHvQtxnIl0Ggg0feCAbJZWsqCb63JSqC8gWoyPOWL4iXSjn0onLN-ETU58tP_WA/s1600/eu+e+zaca+direto+do+t%C3%BAnel+do+tempo+1979.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzY8Hvg0R4Nkcumy1NmF3Nb9mlZYLEotPcTCjmTf1h9STVllYg0AXthzBB4otzUKj1il5QxwHvQtxnIl0Ggg0feCAbJZWsqCb63JSqC8gWoyPOWL4iXSjn0onLN-ETU58tP_WA/s320/eu+e+zaca+direto+do+t%C3%BAnel+do+tempo+1979.jpg" /></a>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-39253678166225232062014-11-10T04:57:00.000-08:002014-11-10T04:59:04.890-08:00Café Literário 49ª Feira do Livro de Porto Alegre 2003 Josette Lassance e Dand M. (ao fundo)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-i1kkSJzLhK0pDOfTFC_3lfMJyFEP6_iDvrY_fufLc8ChioIgkpqzV3h52KBnDVLCuHKjr-JID433sZrpW7Z2KoZqxaUDr7Eun8VFPxoglLwN_U7slnQTp8BcL8hl55N4Hy3O/s1600/caf%C3%A9+de+letras+sarau+49+feira+do+livro+de+porto+Alegre.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-i1kkSJzLhK0pDOfTFC_3lfMJyFEP6_iDvrY_fufLc8ChioIgkpqzV3h52KBnDVLCuHKjr-JID433sZrpW7Z2KoZqxaUDr7Eun8VFPxoglLwN_U7slnQTp8BcL8hl55N4Hy3O/s320/caf%C3%A9+de+letras+sarau+49+feira+do+livro+de+porto+Alegre.jpg" /></a><b><strike><strike></strike></strike></b>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-37540235859904306282014-11-10T04:49:00.001-08:002014-11-10T05:10:20.221-08:00Varais em Belém Guilherme Mansur e Josette Lassance<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vE6phPInfl9lRvpaajESfDoJyNtkbKvJe_tqqO1gvMzub3H-20HivZ7j5ik9hVoqxntQSUSOz2iEYZgtDPuNNdsiZS-Lp1-Fcl9XFQlYtXevSaPM9gt932UKHkr0EuLRrmA2/s1600/guilherme+mansur+e+josette.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vE6phPInfl9lRvpaajESfDoJyNtkbKvJe_tqqO1gvMzub3H-20HivZ7j5ik9hVoqxntQSUSOz2iEYZgtDPuNNdsiZS-Lp1-Fcl9XFQlYtXevSaPM9gt932UKHkr0EuLRrmA2/s320/guilherme+mansur+e+josette.jpg" /></a><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-647125444616632882014-05-13T07:29:00.002-07:002014-05-13T07:29:48.864-07:00Carimbó, Lassance Maya<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20msZvFm5s71nuTQUdovUncIWCrh7dnB7S-LsfQKmLAFjE0QBlKBtu9vDJl2yeOHfWe-_1meLX7ECpUq21wQNRkE5xn3npBjCpI2odEpfyroPFaHrX9CZenpqh6GpNJQ4Epn7/s1600/carimb%C3%B3+LM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20msZvFm5s71nuTQUdovUncIWCrh7dnB7S-LsfQKmLAFjE0QBlKBtu9vDJl2yeOHfWe-_1meLX7ECpUq21wQNRkE5xn3npBjCpI2odEpfyroPFaHrX9CZenpqh6GpNJQ4Epn7/s320/carimb%C3%B3+LM.jpg" /></a></div>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-87329232610343182552014-05-13T07:20:00.001-07:002014-05-13T07:22:10.735-07:00Gravura (nanquim), Lassance Maya, 1990.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-NW4_rZA2pxUHPSQQdt8F9CHLuVXgCAPf10GmJdKPbVH_CFOmVaild4pNuoWF9dBu26heSFaD_0kBQ1eHHBDGNvhZ8p8POBXaI2RomEJroZNAZV-cYLHt6G5z_aLpp5pnvAQ/s1600/desenho+papai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-NW4_rZA2pxUHPSQQdt8F9CHLuVXgCAPf10GmJdKPbVH_CFOmVaild4pNuoWF9dBu26heSFaD_0kBQ1eHHBDGNvhZ8p8POBXaI2RomEJroZNAZV-cYLHt6G5z_aLpp5pnvAQ/s320/desenho+papai.jpg" /></a></div>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-63437044966223326482014-02-24T08:11:00.001-08:002014-11-10T05:14:36.756-08:00CRÔNICAS, SONHOS & CAFÉS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlUqK2kHwCo9nC5-Vne-7KbYY7Tvctbh6odW1oMXPEnNt-0NnvuGnFrIluax-axMlHXQ5hLywfRaIlKIOWqiESYniUCocCJ3OrfGgjUXRqH3PPFOzICoeMpU6l0Dse5HLP96c/s1600/CAPA+JOSETTE+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlUqK2kHwCo9nC5-Vne-7KbYY7Tvctbh6odW1oMXPEnNt-0NnvuGnFrIluax-axMlHXQ5hLywfRaIlKIOWqiESYniUCocCJ3OrfGgjUXRqH3PPFOzICoeMpU6l0Dse5HLP96c/s320/CAPA+JOSETTE+(1).jpg" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-3813592928661076332014-01-30T10:35:00.000-08:002014-02-24T07:46:06.252-08:00Poema de Ulisses Tavares
"nada sei sobre a vidinha do
pernilongo que mato
indiferente na parede.
mas desconfio que era
a única que ele tinha"
josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-46819148217858012812014-01-22T08:46:00.000-08:002014-02-24T08:19:49.819-08:00
o pássaro voa
leve
inteiro
(nada
por
dentro
da chuva) /
R. 2007/JL
josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-6965963365169360172014-01-22T08:41:00.000-08:002014-11-10T05:13:13.095-08:00poesia & fotografia anos 2000 Josette Lassance - Flavya Mutran<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfawDahc_J7AxstxIx320QjVUFMeEQDQzANlFhueO-lTwQaPsbBq3EE6EOz0SNzlFtGrVXfqgUQ8zL0st7hl7GcK9Q4jsygxydoV0txFI22RlGD-P7bq-genlJITmxnSudAbg/s1600/cartaz+liter%C3%A1rio+em+p+&+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfawDahc_J7AxstxIx320QjVUFMeEQDQzANlFhueO-lTwQaPsbBq3EE6EOz0SNzlFtGrVXfqgUQ8zL0st7hl7GcK9Q4jsygxydoV0txFI22RlGD-P7bq-genlJITmxnSudAbg/s320/cartaz+liter%C3%A1rio+em+p+&+b.jpg" /></a></div>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-11104535987502146542014-01-10T08:50:00.004-08:002014-01-10T08:53:20.132-08:00
"Amigos morrem, as ruas morrem, as casas morrem. Os homens se amparam em retratos. Ou no coração dos outros homens."
Ferreira Gullarjosette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-16943252276605246912014-01-08T06:50:00.001-08:002014-01-08T06:51:25.786-08:00pequena mostra da montanha<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBUKzTZfmCVRFmza3t24EDZiAQ1iaGN5LA6sIuPL5-EV_MKQDqsQeVOgxfKREG0nrTZVAdS8tTw3RQDgH2I5Eusy5MexT-Odw2dHzcSsrrbhpk-rTPbas4XHEHmq0eGjTMekqD/s1600/escrevendo+do+alto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBUKzTZfmCVRFmza3t24EDZiAQ1iaGN5LA6sIuPL5-EV_MKQDqsQeVOgxfKREG0nrTZVAdS8tTw3RQDgH2I5Eusy5MexT-Odw2dHzcSsrrbhpk-rTPbas4XHEHmq0eGjTMekqD/s320/escrevendo+do+alto.jpg" /></a></div>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-43832283383530134672013-12-13T06:10:00.004-08:002013-12-13T06:17:57.482-08:00HAPPINESS - Happiness
... Nobody saw me. The light would hide my face. Everything sparkled. On the walls, ideas and scribbles, always the same trips around the world. I used to look at the elephant; he carried a lamp on his back. My mother used to bring me news about her students when she came from school. I felt as if I was an orphan. The students were her children. But my mother loved me. Everyone has their way of loving. Like the elephant, who brought the electricity on his back to my father’s insomniac nights.
My firs poem was full of tears. “… the living room door opened to the street, from there I saw my imaginary toys… from there the adventures seemed real”. Now I laugh about those things. Perhaps I was making drama. Perhaps it was the exaggerated sensitivity. And I also laughed, although I cried sometimes because of a scratch on my leg.
From the garden stone fountain to the last flowers harvest I was always full of new stories. I dreamed about the teddy bear, fool dream of a hammerhead. My uncle coming around the corner of Friday bringing me in a pinkish package tied with thin string of a fade yellow, a plastic bear. I smiled. My uncle was my father. We could make of him whatever we wanted. The youngest one and I used to race and hide in his truck. We stole candy from his ice cream pallor and painted his face of a good man.
The pictures scrawl on our stuffed memory. Like the rural houses painted blue. Happiness are small fractions which come to us in homeopathic doses, endlessly light, at tiny circumstances which sometimes we don´t even realize. Such as a good surprise in the evening, or when night falls.
Happiness, de Josette Lassance, tradução de Fabíola Marques da Silvajosette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-68277764090548660932013-12-10T06:06:00.001-08:002013-12-10T06:38:06.075-08:00a ponte do galoagora mesmo
passou por aqui
o carroceiro -
trazia garrafas
tão sujas
da poeira da vida -
ávido
pelo olhar do tempo
a nuvem
quase caía
cinza
no chão de madeira
da carroça -
a fêmea que apanhava
era a bela e antiga -
a égua branca -
ela cagava sombria
quase correndo
por um corredor de lama -
da ponte
o último suspiro -
pedia água
à chuva -
pedia sonhos
aos deuses -
corria pelos pântanos da noite
às dores
de suas coxas suadas -
cansada -
ferida e triste -
recebia a surra merecida -
agora mesmo
passou por aqui
o carroceiro -
o chicote na mão
agarrado ao fêmur
da madeira -
na ponte do galo
há um rio
que morre
embaixo
de suas pernas -
na ponte do galo
há um monte
de almas penadas -
agora mesmo
passou por aqui
o carroceiro -
trazia carcaças
de um portal
enferrujado -
da ponte do galo
a chuva limpa
o mundo -
e nada mais se vê
dessa rotina -
nessa neblina
imunda de injustiça.
J.L. dez. 2013
josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-69049344008312819142013-11-19T09:38:00.001-08:002014-02-24T08:26:37.141-08:00moi, novembre 1963<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw2QcdaBZ-5FzhpJqZr-gc0wZDL3mCrimHfWDwxu_GiWahdfNp0qUCTcCiAIQXmjIoPDFqH_fm4KSnr2k7k8eKAqArU32IlSsT88vzmI2DMcf3f5kPl1ScJ-bD-zQ_WzURjtG9/s1600/josette+1+ano+de+idade.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw2QcdaBZ-5FzhpJqZr-gc0wZDL3mCrimHfWDwxu_GiWahdfNp0qUCTcCiAIQXmjIoPDFqH_fm4KSnr2k7k8eKAqArU32IlSsT88vzmI2DMcf3f5kPl1ScJ-bD-zQ_WzURjtG9/s640/josette+1+ano+de+idade.jpg" /></a>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-28681541384994966712013-11-19T09:36:00.003-08:002013-11-19T09:36:56.312-08:00Jorge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji95OwDJ-J8dvQ9zR7MB5b_AidnFgd_jqKyoUxFyjICH1iZYK84T3-Hw47KNrZV8dNmD-Kxt7HoyicOc9pj4qF8mQPsWwXa9tsY8Hf6sHRKVF5miOpSr5HrhFVTMZcn_za-yFS/s1600/jorge+lassance.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji95OwDJ-J8dvQ9zR7MB5b_AidnFgd_jqKyoUxFyjICH1iZYK84T3-Hw47KNrZV8dNmD-Kxt7HoyicOc9pj4qF8mQPsWwXa9tsY8Hf6sHRKVF5miOpSr5HrhFVTMZcn_za-yFS/s640/jorge+lassance.jpg" /></a>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-52988575164359617632013-11-19T09:36:00.001-08:002013-11-19T09:36:02.850-08:00Josie, a caçula<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSthAOFpPPkVKZs0UJiopPPGxqS64HJzetiyvYALkXRNJkm5p2qjN7V-ulMwBmL44qOwx3h4jKPYZNunTqhDM-jPoN6qvpU2w4ldUDht65BIsMPGrmwchh0bO_UnutTwbQTdld/s1600/joseane+lassance+1+ano.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSthAOFpPPkVKZs0UJiopPPGxqS64HJzetiyvYALkXRNJkm5p2qjN7V-ulMwBmL44qOwx3h4jKPYZNunTqhDM-jPoN6qvpU2w4ldUDht65BIsMPGrmwchh0bO_UnutTwbQTdld/s640/joseane+lassance+1+ano.jpg" /></a>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-55227573844366524552013-11-19T09:35:00.001-08:002013-11-19T09:35:02.046-08:00Jânice, a primogênita<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhnsaj_O7Zw1vO2blvH-5MIZBFkaago4g97DCgLqOJeaP4sb4U3rDf3QdzffVn7nH_5A2OVM3MA7YT2X6ONKSthDlkrhQZ7Xp9B6WB3tjPEeKcp0PkE7ojSP4zQ0RVIiAiTcc/s1600/j%C3%A2nice+Lassance.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhnsaj_O7Zw1vO2blvH-5MIZBFkaago4g97DCgLqOJeaP4sb4U3rDf3QdzffVn7nH_5A2OVM3MA7YT2X6ONKSthDlkrhQZ7Xp9B6WB3tjPEeKcp0PkE7ojSP4zQ0RVIiAiTcc/s640/j%C3%A2nice+Lassance.jpg" /></a>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-26889104337466491222013-11-19T09:34:00.001-08:002013-11-19T09:34:02.115-08:00Josette e a mãe, 1963<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFJq9RoGnnAjtEDJOawOncF_zzDvDnQ_rgJX4k0WYfN-ltUoIww81nODLzhPD0ItaAMdFBxxDb_D_xyBN3rZXrn5xt6GtiDtrHxXbQ7Jyf020POZb2CQY5sQd8KHO_Mh-b7_i/s1600/josette+1+ano+de+idade+com+sua+m%C3%A3e+josefa.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoFJq9RoGnnAjtEDJOawOncF_zzDvDnQ_rgJX4k0WYfN-ltUoIww81nODLzhPD0ItaAMdFBxxDb_D_xyBN3rZXrn5xt6GtiDtrHxXbQ7Jyf020POZb2CQY5sQd8KHO_Mh-b7_i/s640/josette+1+ano+de+idade+com+sua+m%C3%A3e+josefa.jpg" /></a>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-90961819997909684272013-11-19T09:33:00.001-08:002014-02-24T08:23:25.202-08:00aos nove, década de 70.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSUlxLoFav2ruce0vzKGpaKPah8Iely5PM2dsZLdtqpFkAP7gZRyyqYXUgfz3M6WZqCLbXYEkLJP6lLRSfxxLdfhHby-I9KHp5hv3ufSKUbtV4G7bXC-XQUdTYv6edg-PSLXCh/s1600/josette+com+9+anos+-+C%C3%B3pia+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSUlxLoFav2ruce0vzKGpaKPah8Iely5PM2dsZLdtqpFkAP7gZRyyqYXUgfz3M6WZqCLbXYEkLJP6lLRSfxxLdfhHby-I9KHp5hv3ufSKUbtV4G7bXC-XQUdTYv6edg-PSLXCh/s640/josette+com+9+anos+-+C%C3%B3pia+(2).jpg" /></a>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-38047928567324429732013-11-19T09:32:00.001-08:002014-02-24T08:25:08.915-08:00 1963<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCj1xQCN5QDorJTb4lLcCu0Agu3g3YM-C9oGxVGtu3urSFLa-zrv5r2Gtjd655_05g_FbgZehC5CiRiZMPaPiURB1Uh6_0A5208at7Xoj61Swf4nGsSb6LTScD_SdETwqOSB6/s1600/C%C3%B3pia+(2)+de+josette+1+ano+de+idade.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCj1xQCN5QDorJTb4lLcCu0Agu3g3YM-C9oGxVGtu3urSFLa-zrv5r2Gtjd655_05g_FbgZehC5CiRiZMPaPiURB1Uh6_0A5208at7Xoj61Swf4nGsSb6LTScD_SdETwqOSB6/s640/C%C3%B3pia+(2)+de+josette+1+ano+de+idade.jpg" /></a>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24481249.post-46007098601013111112013-11-19T09:31:00.001-08:002013-11-19T09:31:20.247-08:00Jorge, o irmão<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-mtdT-vfV_e_3P0VgW9YaqbUl2lD02mi-_BN_44TsrDwU3Ut8CcueQLuVgv9kB07co6cfuyypHK3Qgp-3Mci1V6lxxoBUH8w-h_oikfEAs4E1iZlGABml_iU3FmIe8QJPqMe/s1600/jorge+dan%C3%A7ando+quadrilha+no+col%C3%A9gio+d%C3%A9cada+de+sessenta.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-mtdT-vfV_e_3P0VgW9YaqbUl2lD02mi-_BN_44TsrDwU3Ut8CcueQLuVgv9kB07co6cfuyypHK3Qgp-3Mci1V6lxxoBUH8w-h_oikfEAs4E1iZlGABml_iU3FmIe8QJPqMe/s640/jorge+dan%C3%A7ando+quadrilha+no+col%C3%A9gio+d%C3%A9cada+de+sessenta.jpg" /></a>josette lassancehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16754655369675802036noreply@blogger.com0