My feet carried me down the road, which was illuminated by the oddly unreal light of the moon, and into the woods. Beneath that moonlight, all sounds bore a strange reverberation. The hollow soud of my own footsteps seemed to come from another direction as through I were hearing someone walking on the bottom of the sea. Behind me, every now and then, I would hear hear a crack or a rustle. A heavy pall hung over the forest, as if the animals of the night were holding their breath, waiting for me to pass.
from Haruki Murakami “Norwegian Wood” (Translated by Jay Rubin)