Read this excerpt from Mukherjee’s memoir and answer the question.

Clark, who remained in Iowa City until our youngest son finished high school, sent me newspaper accounts, and I turned them into stories. Indian friends in Atlanta took me to dinners and table gossip became stories. Suddenly, I had begun appropriating the American language. My stories were about the hurly-burly of the unsettled magma between two worlds.

In the above excerpt, Mukherjee’s imagery of “the hurly-burly of the unsettled magma”means what?

Fact is stranger than fiction.
Her stories were about people’s hidden lives that bubbled up like lava.
She liked to hear stories.
Her stories were as explosive as molten lava.