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.
16 comments:
hahahahaahaha! LOL!
I think this may well be for iryna, too!
Hahahahaha!
anda rockero!
uuuuu que BESTIA! and BESTIAL
GOODDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!
thanx ;)
FEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HAHAHAHAAHAAHA!
It's just as I always suspected: Death is well hung
Grab Life By The Balls!
They say it's not nice to point.
Ha!Haaaaaaaaaa!!!!! Love it!
HAHAHAHAAHA! LOL!
Ah, yes. Yes, this one is for me.
I opened the page and found "So Proud" was waiting for me. It was a little like opening my front door and discovering that the corridor is still there.
Now I DO know that I've told you that we Slavic women carry around a measuring tape: length & girth are vital.
Seriously, Ruela, any man who has to strip down to the bone to look impressive has issues!
Touché. (But only a little one: this one's for a knife fight, not for serious fencing)
Still, it is nice to know I can elicit this reaction ;)
Touché ;)
haha!
hahahaha! You made me laugh out loud today
Well, Ruela. Ultimately, Robert and I have had to tip our hats to you.
You rose to the occasion and should feel 'so proud' (you little genius, you)!
Truly a masterpiece of quick wit and humour.
Love it, love it, love it!
Oh, and speaking of tips of hats... Uh-oh. This is where I keep my mouth shut (but not too much). Just imagine that I'm saying, "Oh!" ;)
hahahahaha!
Shhh! Don't tell anyone, Ruela, but I really am kind of impressed!
NOT A WORD, mind you!!! ;)
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