When the cover of the oven is opened, the temperature makes you forget the air temperature. Mahira Sovqatova wipes the sweat from her neck with her hands, cracked from the work. Before putting her right hand in the tandir, she covers it with a wool cloth. Every time when she stoops into the oven, her face becomes red. Her eyes become red and she waves her hands to escape the smoke.

She says that she wishes she was sitting with her grandchildren in her house in Astara, South Azerbaijan, telling them fairy tales.