The gate to my building has been broken (open) for a week, leading to some unsightly displays in the parking lot.  I spotted a menacing piece of concrete sticking out of somebody’s windshield when I returned this evening.

Bored youth?  Score to settle?  Jilted lover?

Why take this animosity out on an inanimate object, I wonder.  Have we become so maladapted to communication that we must destroy machines to break down the barriers we have built around our lives?

We have lost ourselves in ones & zeros.  Conflicts once solved around a communal bowl or outside a theater or over a summer campfire have devolved to simple barbaric vandalism.  I cannot get through to you with my electronics, so this is the only way.

“I love you.  You won’t return my calls.  Sorry about the broken glass.”