My beloved is sunbathing on the terrace while I am trying to come up with something to write about in the house. To no avail, though. “Nothing,” I mumble when I join her and plop myself down in one of the two lounge chairs. “It’s the air pressure,” she mumbles and reaches for my hand without opening her eyes. “Remember what Milica told us after lunch today?” According to Benjamin Pahović’s wife, the air pressure drops markedly one day after the onset of the bora, which usually blows for a few days in a row. Whenever that happens, she feels lost the whole day. “It’ll be better tomorrow,” my beloved wraps up Milica’s story and caresses my hand reassuringly. In fact, she feels exactly the same. Her mind is kind of gone, and she feels like sleeping all the time. “Good,” I head back to the house, “now I have something to write about.” Blame it on the bora, that is. Come to think of it, it should be the other way around: in praise of the bora.