In the distant year of 1988, when I was serving in the army, the most devastating earthquake occurred in Armenia, resulting in the deaths of more than 50,000 people. I was part of a rescue group sent to the cities of Gyumri and Spitak. The shocking scene of ruins that these cities had become left me in shock, especially witnessing the lost children, injured and in pain, calling out for their deceased parents. I felt helpless not knowing how to help them, and with tears in my eyes, I tried to comfort and support them as best as I could. These feelings of helplessness have stayed with me to this day.

 

During those years, the Soviet Union was collapsing, and there was widespread political and criminal chaos. It felt like the world was falling apart, and doomsday had arrived. It was during this time that the territorial conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan began.

 

The Republic was under a complete blockade from 1988 until 1994, and I involuntarily witnessed the bloody battles. I am not a politician and cannot be one due to my creative nature, and in my soul, I could not find justification for children dying or mourning at their parents' funerals. I gathered a group of volunteers under my leadership, and we helped evacuate children from conflict zones and placed them in temporary shelters. I cried with them without tears and could do nothing more to help.

 

I feel a guilt that is not mine, and I know that there is no greater joy for me than seeing the happy faces of children, especially those who have lost a loved one.

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When the war in Armenia ended, the country was in a deep economic crisis and widespread corruption prevailed. In order to receive a higher art education and have more opportunities to earn money, I went to the capital of Russia and enrolled in the Moscow Technological Institute, in the art institute.

 

Balancing studies with work, I earned a decent income by selling my paintings at various exhibitions. Once again, I encountered lonely children on the streets of Moscow, where they engaged in begging in hopes of earning money for food. They slept in the basements of residential buildings. Drug trafficking thrived, and children were exploited, being drawn into prostitution. It was another shock!

 

I couldn't just pass by and helped them as much as I could, but by that time I had my own two children - a son and a daughter. Naturally, I couldn't help everyone, and it was impossible in a country where there was no proper guardianship system, and corrupt officials embezzled state budget funds allocated supposedly to support orphans and neglected children.

 

In 2000, I established a foundation and became the chairman of the organizing committee of the public organization "Lonely Children of Russia".

 

The activities of my organization faced unprecedented resistance from government officials who fed off this trough by robbing children. Perhaps I was very naive, thinking that law enforcement agencies should be dealing with this, and in accordance with legislative norms, I submitted numerous documents proving the misappropriation of children's funds to state control authorities, but in the end, I became a target of persecution myself.

 

I know what it's like to live without a father, or far away from him. When I was very young, my father emigrated to the USA in the hope of freeing our family from Soviet captivity, but we did not succeed...

 

I remember sitting by the window in the evenings, waiting for my father, but...

 

Sometimes my father's friends would come and give me a letter with a small gift.

 

These gifts were the most precious to me, and I knew he was somewhere nearby, and it made me stronger.

 

I want and must pass on this kind and precious feeling to all the children who look out at the road in the evenings!

 

Thank you to everyone who is with me!