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Quote by Mia P. Manansala

“Your aunt called it 'chocolate meat,' so I thought it would be similar to mole, but it's not. I can't really describe the taste, but there's something familiar about it. It's really good, even if the texture is a little... different." Hana agreed. "There's definitely something familiar about it, but I can't put my finger on it. Maybe a Korean dish my mom used to make?" I laughed. "'Chocolate meat' is a euphemism some older Filipinos use since Westerners can be kind of squeamish about our food. If it reminds you of a Korean dish, you're probably thinking of soondae." "Blood sausage?" I nodded. Understanding dawned in Hana's eyes. "Oh, now I get it. The stew is thickened with pig's blood, isn't it? There's a Korean soup that has cakes of blood in it, so that also reminds me of this.”

Quote by Mia P. Manansala

Work

Death and Dinuguan

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Mia P. Manansala

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“Those who do not know story remain bound to tale. Our roots lie not in blood or soil; we grow from yesterday’s tales and blossom in today’s stories. آن‌ها که داستان نمی‌دانند، در قصه می‌مانند. ریشه‌های انسان در خون و خاک نیست؛ ما با قصه‌های دیروز می‌روییم و در داستان‌های امروز می‌شِکُفیم.”

“There is a particular love for the bride in this sacrifice that the church misses when she only thinks that God did not have any particular people in mind when he bought the church with his Son’s blood. I used to say to the church I served, “I love all the women of this church, but I love my wife in a very special way.” I would not want Noël to think that she is loved just because I love all women and she happens to be a woman. So it is with God and all the people of the world. There is a universal love for all, but there is a particular love that he has for the bride. And when Christ died, there was a particular aim in that death for her. He knew her from the foundation of the world, and he died to obtain her.”

“They call me deranged, a fractured fool, But madness is my kingdom, my only rule. Every twitching line, each shattered rhyme, The writhing chaos of a lunatic’s mind. A delirious dreamer, a nightmarish scribe, A maniacal poet, where absurdity thrives. Twisted nightmares, the crowd to engage. Bleeding raw horror onto every page. My pen carves scars, my paper weeps, In the cradle of chaos, sanity sleeps.”