The displaced live in between two worlds, never fully at home, in a place they can call their own. Between normal society and one which harbours them but never affords them the birth right of an existence free of pity and condescension.
The sibling one wishes they never had, the offspring the parents wish they’d never brought into this world, the reproach families would prefer to have lived without. In times more primitive they would have been purged. Now they’re ignored by a society that has unconsciously become adept at ignoring what it doesn’t want to acknowledge.
These people have no place in normal society and are forced to seek sanctuary among their kind, some of whom are pure, others given to exploitation. In this community they reclaim some of their humanity, for they are among people like themselves, people who understand and converse with the same animated gestures, unafraid of being misunderstood or looked down upon. But in the outside world they assume a cold detached rigid zombified aspect, communicating with repetitive gestures the unmistakable request for sustenance (hand going to mouth)
Although not outwardly manifest, we are just like them, we’re all deaf, dumb and blind. Blind to squalid conditions deaf to cries of hunger and suffering and dumb refusing to ask why our fellow man must endure such a miserable existence.