When I felt his burning gaze
On my bare shoulders
I understood exactly how raw dough must feel
When it comes in contact with boiling oil
The heat that invaded me was so real
That I feared that, just like dough,
Bubbles would break out all over my body
On my stomach, my heart, my breasts...
-I lowered my eyes and tried to escape-
(Only the pots know the boiling points of their broth)