I could have described the weather recently, but I spent my days improving and crafting prompts instead. To compensate for my ignorance towards nature, I'll temporarily halt my input writing and goad my wee mind into a weatherman's skin. So, yesterday, and the day before yesterday, was horrific as gale force wind battering the country hard, though less harmful than England's. The garden furniture's cover sheet on our balcony produced a never-before-heard noise while the wind blew it about. It sounded like a typical Hungarian "betyár", aka bandit, cracking his whip ferociously. The shades knocked on the window like a forger while crafting swords for an entire marauding army, car sirens went off, and the wind played a weird tune on its whistler. Sleeping in this out-of-this-world cacophony proved more challenging than climbing Mount Everest without oxygen tanks. Eventually, Mother Nature got tired of this vicious air flow and tamed it into a gentle breeze. It was just about time, as the streets were littered with twigs and branches, and some of the bins left their contents as the wind knocked them over.
It's all quiet now. Apart from exceptionally miffed crows that were flying about over the houses and a couple of confused canines that still barked from the previous days' experiences, one can hear their heartbeats; that's how loud silence is.
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