The Young Archies, The Archibald Prize 2016 He is the father. He is so slender, slight. Vietnamese: that slightness of generations which keeps the spark of genes passing through thickets of famine and war by not demanding very much, so imprinted in him is gentleness, courtesy, self-effacement, self-abnegation, survival. His daughter has drawn his son. She too is reed-slight. She is diffident, teenage-shy —not in an Australian sour-pouting way. But confident somehow —not in a brash, ugly way; maybe just that she knows she’s done something pretty darn good, though that is past and she is beyond what it…
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