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       This afternoon I was in the city - in the hypermarket:  I like these temples of consumption:
for me: they're orbital sci-fi stations:        I crumble there among people of different races and
genders: I openly judge them quietly: I make assumptions - and on the basis of very unsubstantiated
details: trifles: and sometimes even my own fantasies     - I make immediate
"ad hoc hypothesis".
        In critical thinking: this bizarre collocation denotes: : a wrong one     - on the basis of
facts: an insufficiently substantiated derivative - built only because of a special situation.
        (I was just bitten by the ad hoc hypotheses: that the all literature:   and art is actually
Ad hoc ... foggy vanities: self-vivisections: paranoid closures: mystical generalizations     - the
crimes themselves.)
        I had to stop at the children's corner - because:  a tiny unoverlook part-time worker there
blazed: in a gray- T-shirt: with the words Baby Space. Gorgeous dark nipples: were outlined:     on
this her translucent garment: which had been washed very many times - and it looked very weird - in
that children's universe: at best very contrastingly: and I immediately felt regret:   that I don't
have a baby with me. I would definitely be able to say something funny in front of her:  and in the
evening: I would return for the hat: which I would forget on the chair there.  We would laugh a lot
at the evening billing - by some fatal coincidence: we would left at half past ten:   on the inside
of the blinds: and I would see finally:  (they expect: that you'll pull the shirt slowly over their
nipples: bro) :naked woman in those colorful balls: