During the 80s, the streets of Saigon were filled with war orphans. Always on the lookout for food and shelter, they begged or sold single cigarettes. Abandoned by all, they could only count on themselves, their cohesion and their care for each other was truly admirable.
They protected one another and shared everything; I saw a little girl break a candy up into tiny pieces to share it with the other kids. But this solidarity wasn’t extended to children born from a G.I. father and a prostitute mother. Cumulating flawed bloodline and sons of bitches, these children were in turn rejected by the others. I guess pariahs can have their own pariahs.
– Philippe Graton