From The Body Artist by Don DeLillo (reading that is not, actually, homework…wow).
You separate the Sunday sections and there are endless identical lines of print with people living somewhere in the words and the strange contained reality of paper and ink seeps through the house for a week and when you look at a page and distinguish one line from another it begins to gather you into it and there are people being tortured halfway around the world, who speak another language, and you have conversations with them more or less uncontrollably until you become aware you are doing it and then you stop, seeing whatever is in front of you at the time, like a half glass of juice in your husband's hand.
She took a bite of cereal and forgot to taste it. She lost the taste somewhere between the time she put the food in her mouth and the regretful second she swallowed it."
Shifting the point of view of a story is pretty hard to pull off, but so far (I'm only one chapter in), what DeLillo is doing totally works.
Everyone's an Ocean 