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.
7 comments:
Ruela...
Your a mad man!!
love it
Exellent as always :)
Absolutly Ru !
Thank you all!
Don't call me ;)
I might have called, if only able to decipher the secret code hidden within the frames.
I agree, from what I've seen here, quite a mad man, but it's not a bad thing = Cheers!
immensely good and I can imagine the fun you had with it.
BRAVO!
You have perfectly personified my overriding attitude toward that infernal contraption. ;-)
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