Yevgeny Zamyatin — We [802]

And the trees, like candles—rising up into the sky itself; like spiders crouching on the earth with gnarled paws; like mute green fountains … And everything was crawling, stirring, rustling… . Some shaggy little ball dashed out from underfoot. And I was frozen to the spot, I could not make a step, because under my feet was not a level surface— you understand—not a firm, level surface, but something revoltingly soft, yielding, springy, green, alive. — Yevgeny Zamyatin, We, 802

Note

Evokes sensory terror and vertigo through tactile description of the natural world encountered by a citizen of the Glass City.