whirr

For the previous 72 hours, the menacing whirr above our heads has belonged to Russia’s suicide drones, passing over and then bearing down on their targets.

As a helicopter whirred overhead and masked men yelling pro-Israel slogans circled the camp’s plywood barricades, the officers drove away.

The room was dimly lit except for the glow of blue, red, and green lights on computers that whizzed and whirred with activity.

It was quiet enough that you could hear a handful of people crying, above the somehow blaring whirr of the escalators.

It whirred with magnificent efficiency; the strings, locked into repetitive patterns, threw off bright, clean sparks.