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.

Monday, 27 June 2011

4 comments:

Ruela said...

;)

Mersault said...

I love this, love your style

manina31 said...

what is that cute thing!!

.:. said...

Monday, 27 June 2011
Death is a hurdy gurdy man
www 666 the empire state building of those deprived of TOUCH. morsing their SOS into the vast, fucked universe like dead birds. This time we do the same, Schubert/Todeskino, Mizzi and the syphilis, death is a hurdy gurdy man...


sicko