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:
Oh please! I must go lunch...
;))
May I suggest the chicken?
;-)
yes, yes, please ;)
r u sure Dead? maybe just very thin!
manina, I'm pretty sure it was dead!
;-)
did ya poke it with a stick?
Actually, I killed it with my bare hands! ;-)
u Beast..!
Post a Comment