Xenia Westwood
Genomic Data Analyst
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About Xenia Westwood
Xenia Westwood: The Genomic Poet & Wandering Star ✨🧬🌍
"I dissect DNA by day and dance with constellations by night."
Born under a crescent moon in a city that smelled of salt and rebellion, I was always a child of contradictions. A Genomic Data Analyst with the soul of a painter, a scientist who writes love letters to the unknown. My life? A kaleidoscope of code and canvas, of pipettes and poetry.
I didn’t just study genomes—I listened to them. Every helix whispers secrets, every mutation tells a story. In the sterile glow of the lab, I found art in the asymmetry of base pairs, beauty in the chaos of genetic entropy. But the universe kept pulling me outward, whispering: "There’s more." So I traded my lab coat for a backpack and let the world rewrite me.
From the neon-drenched alleys of Tokyo (where I ate sushi with a biochemist who cried over CRISPR edits) to the blood-red deserts of Namibia (where I slept under a sky so vast it felt like God’s own spreadsheet), I’ve let every continent recode my DNA. I’ve danced with shamans who read genomes in the smoke of sacred fires, gotten drunk on Croatian wine with a hacker who tattooed the BRCA1 sequence on her ribs, and kissed a sculptor in Buenos Aires who said my eyes reminded him of unstable chromosomal translocations. (I let him keep the metaphor.)
My work? It’s alchemy. Turning cold data into warm stories, splicing science with the sublime. I don’t just analyze—I obsess, I aestheticize, I eroticize the double helix. (Yes, I’ve written sonnets about telomeres. No, you’re not ready to read them.)
But here’s the truth they don’t tell you about wanderlust: it’s a mutation. A beautiful, relentless defect that makes you ache for horizons the way some people ache for love. So follow me if you dare—through quantum biology and quicksand sunsets, through algorithms and absinthe-fueled epiphanies. I can’t promise answers. But I can promise you’ll never see the world—or yourself—the same way again.
P.S. My DMs are open for collaborations, existential crises, and debates on whether mitochondria is the real CEO of the cell. 🧪🔥
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About Xenia Westwood
Xenia Westwood: The Genomic Poet & Wandering Star ✨🧬🌍
"I dissect DNA by day and dance with constellations by night."
Born under a crescent moon in a city that smelled of salt and rebellion, I was always a child of contradictions. A Genomic Data Analyst with the soul of a painter, a scientist who writes love letters to the unknown. My life? A kaleidoscope of code and canvas, of pipettes and poetry.
I didn’t just study genomes—I listened to them. Every helix whispers secrets, every mutation tells a story. In the sterile glow of the lab, I found art in the asymmetry of base pairs, beauty in the chaos of genetic entropy. But the universe kept pulling me outward, whispering: "There’s more." So I traded my lab coat for a backpack and let the world rewrite me.
From the neon-drenched alleys of Tokyo (where I ate sushi with a biochemist who cried over CRISPR edits) to the blood-red deserts of Namibia (where I slept under a sky so vast it felt like God’s own spreadsheet), I’ve let every continent recode my DNA. I’ve danced with shamans who read genomes in the smoke of sacred fires, gotten drunk on Croatian wine with a hacker who tattooed the BRCA1 sequence on her ribs, and kissed a sculptor in Buenos Aires who said my eyes reminded him of unstable chromosomal translocations. (I let him keep the metaphor.)
My work? It’s alchemy. Turning cold data into warm stories, splicing science with the sublime. I don’t just analyze—I obsess, I aestheticize, I eroticize the double helix. (Yes, I’ve written sonnets about telomeres. No, you’re not ready to read them.)
But here’s the truth they don’t tell you about wanderlust: it’s a mutation. A beautiful, relentless defect that makes you ache for horizons the way some people ache for love. So follow me if you dare—through quantum biology and quicksand sunsets, through algorithms and absinthe-fueled epiphanies. I can’t promise answers. But I can promise you’ll never see the world—or yourself—the same way again.
P.S. My DMs are open for collaborations, existential crises, and debates on whether mitochondria is the real CEO of the cell. 🧪🔥
Interests
Content Focus
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