Word: roaringly
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...wouldn't think of using power tools without wearing earplugs. And on weekends she keeps her windows closed. "Some mornings you can't walk outside because so many people are using their power mowers," she laments. "It's very noisy out there." Who would dispute it? From the roar of airplanes to the wail of sirens, the blast of stereos to the blare of movie sound tracks, noise is a constant part of American life. But few go to the lengths Russ does to avoid it. Noise is annoying and frustrating -- and accepted...
...most of us unnecessarily increase the burden of noise we put ourselves under in our private lives." Homeowners endure the steady whine of everything from chain saws and power lawn mowers to vacuum cleaners and dishwashers. And the din of leisure activities can be just as dangerous as the roar from the factory floor. "We have laws to protect the hearing of workers in noisy workplaces," says senior scientist William Clark of the Central Institute for the Deaf in St. Louis. "But there are no laws covering recreational noises." The most hazardous pastimes by far are hunting and target shooting...
This is the art of darkness: a young woman offers a sandalwood garland, bows from the waist -- and, suddenly, the once and likely future hope of India, a figure invested with the symbolic weight of generations, is obliterated in a deafening roar and a ball of flame. A man whose incandescent family had long been identified with one-sixth of the human race, Rajiv Gandhi last week went the way of his mother Indira, falling to a climate of violence that has steadily overtaken the subcontinent. Rajiv, 46, heir to a miraculous name, disappeared in a fiendish conjurer's trick...
...night mercifully hides the dusty smoke of artillery. Three 175-mm field guns are outlined against the full-moon sky with piles of shells beside them and peshmerga pulling the lanyards. The subsequent roar deafens the ears with the sound of a thousand church bells ringing. Then a moment of magic silence, and somewhere a night bird's lilting song brings out the stars. God knows...
Dante would have felt right at home in Kuwait, a desert paradise that has suddenly been transformed into an environmental inferno. Across the land hundreds of orange fireballs roar like dragons, blasting sulfurous clouds high into the air. Soot falls like gritty snowflakes, streaking windshields and staining clothes. From the overcast skies drips a greasy black rain, while sheets of gooey oil slap against a polluted shore. Burned-out hulks of twisted metal litter a landscape pockmarked by bomb craters, land mines and shallow graves scraped in the sand...