Memories of Sunday Breakfast

i was seven (or eight?) when i moved to bacolod city for studies and stayed with my cousins for two years. sundays usually start with mass then going back to the house for brunch. and brunch is not complete without crumbled skinless chorizo mixed with fried rice and egg.

the sweet-spicy-garlicky-fiery-red bits of pork and meat fried to a carcinogenic-black-toast is one thing that i truly relish as that part of my childhood.

breakfast today at offroads as i have to get the car cleaned (it resembles a black leopard with white dusty spots) and looking forward to the rain that inadvertently fall EVERY time i get the dang car washed.

oh well, ordered myself skinless chorizo breakfast and for a moment, with every mouthful, smiled like a kid.


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