“…and held her so close to his heart. He did the same to the boy, rumored to be a bastard son. My friend, who I see walking from the kitchen to the vegetable room, saw more. She told me the story of the older daughter. I believe the girl’s name was Yaung. She had just finished with a man. What a young thing—probably fifteen summers old, she was. Her father came storming through the hall, swinging open every curtain to find his daughter, ripping big men off of the naked whores. The man Yaung had just serviced walked out from her room. Her father threw the man down the hall, opening the curtain to find his daughter dressing, the dried streams on her cheeks catching the light of the sun falling through the window.When her eyes met her father’s she began to weep& he took her hand. The four of them rushed from the camp & I never saw them again. My freedom is behind me, my story isn’t important anymore, but their’s is. Find Yaung & her brother & sister & father.You don’t need wisdom—you need to know happiness.”