"It came to her in successive waves, an ebb and flow. When the first wave arrived, barely touching her toes, it was so light and translucent a ripple that you might be forgiven for thinking it insignificant, that it would vanish soon, leaving no trace. But then followed another wave, and the next one, rising as far as her ankles, and the one after covering her knees, and before you knew it she was immersed in liquid pain, up to her neck, drowning."

The Island of the Missing Trees by Elif Shafak


Last one from that book. It really was beautiful. But sad.