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.
8 comments:
I finally have all of my airbrushing equipment in and I'm ready to get start ;)
nice work!
I like it!
Hmm. I'm certain I've seen you around a lot of places. I could be wrong...
I'm thinking of getting a mirror like that. In checking on one's appearance before going out it'd be comforting to know that one is presentable enough to be barely see in public.
Mme Harpy, we have the same modales!
It strikes me that we probably have the same sans-modales.
me, I am sans-culottes
It's the waistcoat that maketh the man.
forsooth
I think you could be arrested if that's showing in public.
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