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.
Showing posts with label Igmar Bergman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Igmar Bergman. Show all posts

Friday, 8 April 2011

Image is not truth (reposted)

Do you think you see a story? No. It is light that casts shadows. You only see illusion.
Look into the apparitions' eyes - what obscenities stir there?

but

don't stare too hard lest someone wink at you... perhaps a child?
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