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, 28 March 2012

In Search of Yog Sothoth's Eden



4 comments:

CHM -Cristina Homem de Mello said...

Nice life music growth dance science vitality

Animesh said...

Awesome moment.

A.Decker said...

Manic laughter of flora's life force...psychedelic freeform conjuring dance...and finally, his awesome majesty pierces the veil.

I tremble.

You got me trippin,'

Thanks, very much. ;-)

A.Decker said...
This comment has been removed by the author.