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, 2 July 2011


sell fish loch ness mon ass t(h)er y on the beauty and the beast all ways merry age aion

"Die Sprache ist das Haus des Seins" Heidegger
language is the whore house of being

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