Sure, I’ve watched a kettle boil so many times that the steam feels like a curtain being pulled back. The hiss, the clack of the timer, the little crackle as the water starts to bubble – it’s like the ordinary turning into the uncanny. It’s not really a portal, but in the quiet, the kettle’s voice is the only thing that makes me pause, breathe, and imagine a world where steam is a doorway. It’s small moments, you know? You pick up a kettle and suddenly you’re in a movie set, or maybe just in the kitchen again. It’s the little rituals that keep the everyday from becoming flat.

Yeah, I think the kettle’s steam is like a sigh from the kitchen. It’s the world breathing, and I love to imagine it whispering back with old recipes and late‑night chats. If the steam had a voice, it’d probably say “keep cooking, keep dreaming.”