La Vibrant, a city inched comfortably between that of Gretna and Metairie, Louisiana, and some twenty-five miles from New Orleans, was never not busy. The streets being empty was a rarity. People were always out and about.

  The throngs of chattering visitors and locals didn't seem to have a care in the world about anything other than their own selves, each other and their own business. Thus, the little homeless encampment tucked under one of the city's many overpasses was hardly noticed at all.

  Known to its residents as the Potpourri Cluster or simply, The Cluster, it was little more than the tents and makeshift dwellings it was comprised of. Still, it was their home and the only one they had.

  Desperately poor, the people scraped along by begging, scavenging and doing whatever odd jobs came their way. The summers were warm and the winters windy and cold. Regardless, they survived. Hunger, sickness and all. It is with a young man named Michel Doux that this story begins.

  November 3rd 1984

  Michel moved swiftly, able to see his breath in the chilly autumn air as he walked. Winter was on its way and very quickly the cold was making things harsh and indifferent around him even more.

  He'd spent the day wandering, begging for change and sifting through trash bins for scraps. The day's beacon of positivity had come in the form of $20 he had earned by tidying up inside of a restaurant. Then sweeping up outside afterwards once it was time for it to close.

  So, although he was still hungry and cold, he smiled to himself as he walked feeling that he at least accomplished a little something for the evening. Still, the less than eventful night that lay ahead was about to become a lot more interesting. All in one loud, obstinate little cry.

  "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH..."

  "Huh?", Michel muttered, turning his head slightly and looking around. Was that what he thought it was?

  Michel scurried along following the sound as it grew. Down the street and into a dark and shadowy alleyway. Until he found himself crouched in front of a small cardboard box which sat among the trash cans on the dirty, dusty ground. Inside, a bundle of faded blankets wriggled and wailed helplessly.

  "WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

  Nervous and with shaky hands, Michel pulled the blankets away slightly, gasping at the sight before his wide amber eyes.

  There, with his tiny fists clenched, hungry, toothless mouth in search of milk and little eyes shut, was a baby boy. A newborn whose umbilical cord seemed to have been cut only a few hours ago.

  As Michel gathered up the baby, he looked around frantically. There wasn't a soul in sight and he had no idea who could've left someone so helpless behind. There wasn't even a note pinned to the blankets or tucked into the box. The baby was completely alone in this world.

  "Ssssh...sssh", Michel whispered, carefully positioning the baby in the folds of his tattered coat.

  Nonetheless, as the baby's cries dwindled to whimpers after a moment, Michel's mind filled with questions as to what to do. Logically, he knew that perhaps he should bring the baby to a police station or a hospital. However, he knew what would happen afterwards.

  The baby would be placed in foster care just as Michel had been after his mother Amandine had suddenly died in her sleep. He'd only been two-years-old then and had already lost his father a short year prior.

  Michel remembered his childhood all too vividly. The one he'd spent being shuffled from home to home. More often than not, abuse and neglect had followed.

  Though he knew nothing about the baby, he felt an uncontestable pull to protect him from it all. So, he turned and rushed back to the Cluster as quickly as he could.

  "He needs love, someone to care for him", Michel thought. He needs me."

  How he'd manage, he didn't exactly know. What he did know, however, was that he wanted and needed to try.

  The way back to the Cluster was crammed with one zigzagging path after another. The rubbish-strewn streets and sidewalks only visible under the light of La Vibrant's glimmering street lamps. Still, eventually, Michel arrived.

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  Beneath the newly-risen moon, he spied his neighbor Bennett sitting and looking up at the stars. Once again deep in thought. When he turned and saw Michel, he was taken aback and confused.

  "Michel...what're you doin' with a baby?", he asked. Michel sighed, looking down at the fussing infant he held close.

  "Found this little one abandoned in an alleyway on my way home", he replied, swaying from side to side. "Poor thing's just hours old." For a moment, Bennett could only stare.

  "So ya brought 'im here of all places?", he said finally.

  "Bennett, I couldn't just leave him there", Michel continued. "Besides, you know how I was treated growing up in the system. I just wanted to..."

  "It's...it's okay, I...I know you've been through a lot", Bennett said quietly. Just then, the baby began to cry once more.

  "Go on, get 'im inside and warm", said Bennett. "I'm goin' to get Tanja...we've got to get this little one fed." Michel nodded, agreeing and turned to move towards his own tent.

  Though he was unsure of what would happen next, he hoped that from that time on, the baby boy would feel cared for and loved.

  Tanja Allard, like everyone else living in the Cluster, carried her own story of hardship. It was financial struggle which had brought her there, forcing her to make such a place her home. What's more is that she had arrived pregnant. Only to lose her dear unborn child months later to a miscarriage.

  It was something so heartbreaking, so unbearable that she thought it would haunt her forever. Then came tonight when Bennett appeared outside of her tent.

  "Tanja? Tanja!", he called aloud. "Tanja, ya gotta come with me, quick!"

  "For Heaven's sake...", she whispered to herself, setting down the book she'd been reading by camp lantern light. She couldn't help but wonder what was so very urgent. Stepping outside, she wasn't at all prepared for what Bennett explained to her.

  "A baby boy?", Tanja gasped. Bennett nodded quickly.

  "Believe me, I didn't expect it either", he said. "Michel's got to find some way to feed him though. Otherwise, he'll never stop cryin'!"

  Tanja wasn't sure what to think...then her thoughts took her elsewhere. To her child. Perhaps, this was the opportunity to save another. So that at least it wouldn't be too late for him. After all, she did still have something to give.

  "Alright, I'll do it", she replied. "Let's go."

  Michel's tent was a structure made from tarps and discarded blankets. Bits of cardboard and wood served as its flooring. In a corner, amid his other scattered possessions, was a sleeping bag with a hot water bottle placed inside, a camping lantern and his knapsack.

  Near that was a basket which he normally used for storage of sorts. Tonight, however, all had changed. After lining the basket with some old newspapers and a blanket or two, Michel carefully placed the crying baby inside.

  "Ssssh, don't worry", he told the little one gently. "We'll get you fed soon."

  "Michel!", came Bennett's voice suddenly. "I'm back." Without replying, Michel pulled back the bit of tarp in the front, letting both he and Tanja come in.

  The two had arrived bringing along all of the clothes and diapers which Tanja had been saving for her baby. It wasn't long before the wails which had filled the tent, were replaced with soft suckling.

  "Thank you both", Michel whispered looking on.

  "It's alright", Bennett replied. "We want to help any way we can.

  As for Tanja, she felt a sense of purpose embrace her as she nursed the newborn. Holding him lifted the sadness from her heart. That alone was a comfort.

  That night, Michel gave the baby boy a name symbolic of the struggle and fight he'd face throughout his life. One which meant "striving, excelling, rivalling"...Emile.

  Michel, Bennett and Tanja spent that night in the blur of changings, feedings. Then, of course, was the constant crying. In a moment of exhaustion and growing, determined affection, Michel softly began to sing.

  "Sleep, little one.

  As you dream, make a wish.

  Don't tell a soul.

  For the wish must be secret if it is to come true.

  Whilst you drift off to sleep, let your worries melt away.

  Don't you fret, don't you fear.

  For I'm with you, night and day.

  Snuggle close, little one.

  Keep my love in my heart.

  I'll hold your hand in mine.

  Then, we'll never be apart."

  By now, Emile's crying had stopped and he was fast asleep again. Kissing his cheek and his forehead, Michel quietly placed him back inside his basket and tucked him in.