There’s an unrelenting breeze here. Reports say they are 20 (or so) miles per hours gusts. Because of this, there is a near constant howling in the cul de sac where we are staying, the strong wind whipping through the trees, battering against the door, slapping your face as if to make sure you have its attention. You get used to the howling, so when it dies away, as it will occasionally and suddenly, the silence left behind feels almost uncomfortable with the weight of something missing.
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