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That building looks just like my warm winter long johns. I'm not sure I want to see my long johns magnified to hundreds of times their actual size though. But it's interesting to see how when architects no longer understand architectural form and can't speak any architectural language, that they revert to archetypes lying deep in their personal consciousness: Foster's suppository (a/k/a the "Gherkin) is the most glaringly embarrassing example, and now we have a pair of underpants. I wonder what's next?