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There's no unentangling my DNA from my father's.Somewhere along the double helix, there's code for putting my hands in my pockets when I speak, for overexplaining concepts to my children, for turning to the bottle when emotions are too much. The nose hairsThe wry grinThe overabundance of confidenceThe arrogance masked by charmThe lack of self esteem and motivationThe same intense brown eyes andaristocratic noseThe burning desire for art for art's sakeI am my father's daughter.

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