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, 28 January 2012

Love cuts like a knife

4 comments:

A.Decker said...

Then it drapes you in chains...

I think I see a death's head. (?)
Nice.

;-)

CHM said...

very visible pain. Fantastic as usual

Ruela said...

thank you ;)

TICTAC said...

excellent portrayal of the emotion!