Как написать идеальный промпт для VEO 3

From the perspective of a handheld news camera: the image shakes slightly, jostled by the wind; large raindrops streak and blur across the lens, distorting the focus at the edges. The picture is dim and gray, the colors washed out by rain and mist. Occasionally, the autofocus stutters, trying to lock onto the man’s face through the storm. The microphone crackles with interference, and the howl of the wind rattles against the camera. In the center of the frame stands a man, about forty years old, slightly overweight, with an unshaven face and wet, disheveled hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes are squinting against the rain, his face red from cold and wind. He’s wearing a cheap, soaked blue windbreaker and sagging dark jeans clinging to his legs, the collar of a wrinkled shirt poking out at the neck. In his left hand, he grips a black microphone with an orange foam cover, sagging under the weight of water; his right arm stretches outward, trying to balance himself as the water sways around him. He stands waist-deep in filthy, gray floodwater. Around him float plastic bags, wooden planks, an overturned blue public toilet booth, and a half-submerged Lada with smashed headlights. Behind him rise gray Soviet-era apartment blocks: crumbling concrete, rusty balconies, satellite dishes, sagging wires, graffiti on the walls. Overhead, the sky is black, hammered by relentless torrential rain. Thick sheets of water hammer down, fusing into solid walls; gusting winds rip through the courtyard, flinging branches, trash, and scraps of plastic across the frame. Every few seconds, lightning flashes, briefly illuminating the soaked scene, followed by low, rolling thunder that shakes the camera. We see the man look straight into the camera. IMPORTANT: his lips move clearly, in sync with his words; his expression is tense, his voice shaky, barely pushing through the roaring weather. says in Russian, nervously, with shaky voice: "Канал Нейроскуф, напоминаю, что уже июль, так что всем тёплого летнего настроения." Just as he finishes the line, a violent gust of wind hits: on camera, we see him stumble backward, arms flailing, the microphone slipping from his left hand. With a loud splash, he disappears below the surface. The camera shakes wildly, catching brief chaotic shots — the microphone bobbing in the dirty water, floating trash, the half-sunken car. The lens fogs up and smears with raindrops as the picture flickers and jolts. IMPORTANT: audio only, no subtitles. The scene feels absurd, grim, and darkly comedic — as if the viewer is watching a live broadcast from a flooded Russian courtyard, ending with the reporter literally being swept away by the storm on camera.