The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge. They are a bloody mouthful.

Sunday, 3 April 2011

My Dearest Uncle Josh

Stable, conservative, home-loving and self-controlled 
but do not push him too far he will be difficult to calm 
has an extreme good appetite and is a very reliable friend of mine 
Never talk to him about change

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8 comments:

Robert said...

adorable

Ruela said...

Excelent!

Babalith said...

Good work this one. And his face certainly looks familiar to me hihi.

Mersault (Nera B.) said...

Great words

Oilsforfun said...

I miss him

Anonymous said...

You miss him? He's been living with me for the last 18 years! Silly girl, why didn't you tell me?

His chirpy bum cata bum bum should have given it away. I'm having serious problems with his walking up and down the corridors all night in hobnail boots. I've tried putting foam rubber down but, as you say, he is adverse to change... and eats it.

I LOVE this one, CHM! Absolutely wonderful!

Oilsforfun said...

Thanks Iryna I'm happy you know him

Anonymous said...

He's my favourite Oncle, CHM. Life wouldn't be the same without his honesty!

Big hugs to you... Oh, and he sends his strange love to you, too! He promises to return when you don't know that he's there!