Tor Ulven is a Norwegian poet whose sensitivity led him to create pieces that talked about his beautiful observations of the arbitrary, and how each and every moment of our lives is equally precious. This sensitivity, ultimately led to his suicide at the young age of 42.
He wrote prose as much as he did poetry, however it is very hard to find his works in English. Here's a rare translation of one of his poems:
through an enormous, dark room,
a room of sounds;
coal-black turbulence holes of loud bass,
but otherwise empty;
but elegant clouds of dust
after exploded music.
You're floating somewhere
between pleasure and fear,
in a time you cannot decide;
You find yourself everywhere else
than in the presence.
And you disappear more and more
inside these hidden rooms,
and your character fades out gradually,
your facial elements are erased,
your body disintegrates,
and the last thing you think is
that you've become a sound yourself;
among all these others
that cry in the empty, dark room.