Thursday, October 11, 2007
Anyone who lives in an urban area recognizes the stuff in this image. You find it scattered on streets and in parking lots in every neighborhood. Oh yeah. These cubes are pieces of shattered car windows, evidence of a break-in. If you live in a city, you've seen them, right?
There were certain parking spots on Mullen Avenue (in Bernal Heights, San Francisco,) where you could almost always find small pyramids of broken glass. You might be wondering who would park a car on a street renowned for the detritus of auto break-ins? We're talking about San Francisco where basically there is no parking, ever, period. If there's a parking spot, you just take it, and tell yourself that maybe the burglars won't find your car or won't be in the mood, or will see that the stereo has already been stolen.
My car was broken into six times while I lived in San Francisco, once after I moved here. It's a regular business for some people, and it must provide decent money, because it's a popular form of burglary. I had the phone number of the auto glass replacement store memorized by the time I moved away from San Francisco. A friend of mine regularly used this glass in her mosaics because it was always available.
I wonder if the ipod revolution is cutting into the stolen car stereo market?
I gave up my car about three years ago. Honestly I haven't missed it at all. DC is a horrible city to drive in, and fortunately we have excellent public transportation. I also subscribe to Flexcar. It works.
OK. I'll admit I do miss my car during a cold winter day with icy rain and a driving wind. Who wouldn't? Or I might miss it sometimes when I'm suddenly in a mood to drive out of the city, but - that happens rarely.
But today this pool of broken glass caught my attention when I suddenly realized that this stuff, this pile of clear aqua blue cubes, when stuck together, becomes the amazing curved mirror surfaces in which Capitol Hill gets reversed and distorted, and photographed. Interesting for me to think about while I stared down at the glass. Not so much for Jake who kept tugging on his leash until he could convince me to resume our walk.