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.

Wednesday, 21 September 2011

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5 comments:

Coffee Messiah said...

Nice one! = Cheers!

TICTAC said...

very cool!

Ruela said...

beautiful!

Russell 'C.J.' Duffy said...

Those past time ladies frighten the beejebs out of me. How did their husband ever get an erection?

jbkrost said...

!!!