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.
Saturday, 28 May 2011
The Avenue of Doctor Onimus
I thought the world didn't end last week.
So why, when I went for a stroll this afternoon along the Cote D'Azur, was this is all I could see?
8 comments:
great moment...very deep thoughts ;)
maybe the math was wrong...
was leap-years added in?
good work A.
Ruela,
Thanks.
I've been accused of that before.
;-)
JB,
I'm so bad at math, if that was it I wouldn't know.
Thanks.
LOVE IT:
You said everything by saying nothing
great great work, lines of smoke, ruins and royalties burned away
Mersault,
Thank you. I consider that quite a compliment.
CHM,
Thank you, thank you. I do see a bit of that in there myself.
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