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.
6 comments:
tied freedom
yes...
Yeah...
I've been thinking about moving to Montana for a few year now...
there is a certain draw to living in a area like that, love the black and white beasts
Freedom...
thanx!
beautiful - I keep coming back to these horses.
thank you J.D. ;)
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