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, 26 November 2011

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5 comments:

jbkrost said...

Detector of a small despair.....
Very Well Done!!

CHM said...

Very sensual Mersault and inspiring

Ruela said...

Sexyyyyyyyy!

Mersault said...

Thank you !!!

A.Decker said...

Serene and wild at once. Delicate and bold...the dichotomies you've resolved in this go on and on.
I'm in AWE... :-)