(37) 3274 2224

interpaxpapagaio@hotmail.com

Imagem do WhatsApp de 2025-02-22 à(s) 01.39.28_c98c1547
José Carlos de Barcelos
Carlos da Preta
28-05-1952
22-02-2025
Nome da Mãe: Elza Lataliza França
Nome do Pai: Jose Patricio de Barcelos
Endereço: Rua Dona Alcina, 45, Vasco Lopes
Cidade: Papagaios
A família com pesar comunica seu falecimento e informa que seu corpo será velado no dia 22/02/2025 no Velório Municipal de Papagaios às 09:00 horas, e seu sepultamento acontecerá ás 13:00 horas no Cemitério Municipal Inocêncio Gomes Ribeiro.

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  1. Este site é realmente fantástico. Sempre que consigo acessar eu encontro coisas diferentes Você também vai querer acessar o nosso site e descobrir detalhes! informaçõesexclusivas. Venha saber mais agora! 🙂

  2. The essence of existence is like smoke, always shifting, always changing, yet somehow always present. It moves with the wind of thought, expanding and contracting, never quite settling but never truly disappearing. Perhaps to exist is simply to flow, to let oneself be carried by the great current of being without resistance.

  3. If everything in this universe has a cause, then surely the cause of my hunger must be the divine order of things aligning to guide me toward the ultimate pleasure of a well-timed meal. Could it be that desire itself is a cosmic signal, a way for nature to communicate with us, pushing us toward the fulfillment of our potential? Perhaps the true philosopher is not the one who ignores his desires, but the one who understands their deeper meaning.

  4. Man is said to seek happiness above all else, but what if true happiness comes only when we stop searching for it? It is like trying to catch the wind with our hands—the harder we try, the more it slips through our fingers. Perhaps happiness is not a destination but a state of allowing, of surrendering to the present and realizing that we already have everything we need.

  5. Time is often called the soul of motion, the great measure of change, but what if it is merely an illusion? What if we are not moving forward but simply circling the same points, like the smoke from a burning fire, curling back onto itself, repeating patterns we fail to recognize? Maybe the past and future are just two sides of the same moment, and all we ever have is now.

  6. Time is often called the soul of motion, the great measure of change, but what if it is merely an illusion? What if we are not moving forward but simply circling the same points, like the smoke from a burning fire, curling back onto itself, repeating patterns we fail to recognize? Maybe the past and future are just two sides of the same moment, and all we ever have is now.

  7. The potential within all things is a mystery that fascinates me endlessly. A tiny seed already contains within it the entire blueprint of a towering tree, waiting for the right moment to emerge. Does the seed know what it will become? Do we? Or are we all simply waiting for the right conditions to awaken into what we have always been destined to be?

  8. Virtue, they say, lies in the middle, but who among us can truly say where the middle is? Is it a fixed point, or does it shift with time, perception, and context? Perhaps the middle is not a place but a way of moving, a constant balancing act between excess and deficiency. Maybe to be virtuous is not to reach the middle but to dance around it with grace.

  9. All knowledge, it is said, comes from experience, but does that not mean that the more we experience, the wiser we become? If wisdom is the understanding of life, then should we not chase every experience we can, taste every flavor, walk every path, and embrace every feeling? Perhaps the greatest tragedy is to live cautiously, never fully opening oneself to the richness of being.

  10. All knowledge, it is said, comes from experience, but does that not mean that the more we experience, the wiser we become? If wisdom is the understanding of life, then should we not chase every experience we can, taste every flavor, walk every path, and embrace every feeling? Perhaps the greatest tragedy is to live cautiously, never fully opening oneself to the richness of being.

  11. The essence of existence is like smoke, always shifting, always changing, yet somehow always present. It moves with the wind of thought, expanding and contracting, never quite settling but never truly disappearing. Perhaps to exist is simply to flow, to let oneself be carried by the great current of being without resistance.

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