Nguyet: The Girl With Eyes That Paint

When Nguyet arrived at Thi An Orphanage, she was just three and a half years old. No one knew who her parents were. And by then, she no longer remembered any face but the gentle, familiar smiles of the Sisters — the women who, though not by blood, raised her like their own.

Nguyet grew up quiet. Shy. Soft-spoken. But behind her stillness was an entire world waiting to be seen.

She started drawing in primary school, first with pencil, then eventually with a small watercolour set she bought using money she had saved herself. Comic books were her gateway. She’d flip through the pages for hours, admiring the elegance of the characters, the detail in their expressions. She tried copying them, page by page, until her own style slowly began to take shape.

There were no formal lessons. No art classes beyond middle school. No expensive tools or programs. Just paper, pencils, and whatever materials the Sisters could find. A few crayons. Some second-hand supplies. A lot of encouragement.

“She’s really interested in digital art,” one of our team members shared.

“She wants to create her own animated characters someday.”

Nguyet even tried learning digital drawing using a phone, watching tutorials, testing different apps, but the screen was too small, the tools too limited. It couldn’t keep up with what she wanted to create. So she returned to paper, to watercolours, to studying every brushstroke she could find online. Still learning, still dreaming, still building her skill one drawing at a time.

Now 17, Nguyet dreams of going to art school. Of turning her passion into something bigger. But she worries, quietly, like she always does.

“I’m afraid the tuition will be too expensive,” she says.

“I don’t know if I can really make it.”

But what many people don’t know is that Nguyet has already overcome something far more daunting.

Just a couple of years ago, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.

She grew weak. Tired. And for a while, she stopped drawing altogether. She lost her strength. And for a time, her smile.

But slowly, she came back.

She beat the odds.

She picked up her brush again.

And this time, her art felt different. Not just beautiful, but alive.

Now, Nguyet’s work is filled with colour and quiet confidence. Her characters have depth. Her lines have purpose. And her dream, though still delicate, is very much intact.

She’s the girl with eyes that paint. And a heart that refuses to give up.

Because sometimes, all a child needs is one person to believe in their dream.

Nguyet just kept believing in hers, even when it felt out of reach.

And if you ask anyone at Thi An, they’ll tell you:

She’s not just an artist in the making.

She’s already become one.