My grandmother is a Russian immigrant and, as a child, I always dreamed of going to Russia and opening a nonprofit there. I learned Russian as a teenager through studying books in the hopes of moving there.

All our Russian friends told us we would never be able to help. But through determination and a strong desire, we were able to realize our dreams of building a shelter and helping hard-core street children leave street life.

[P]erhaps the burrows in which our lives were spent really were dark and dirty, and perhaps we ourselves were well suited to these burrows, but in the blue sky above our heads, up among the thinly scattered stars, there were special, artificial points of gleaming light, creeping unhurriedly through the constellations, points created here out of steel, semiconductors, and electricity, and now flying through space. And every one of us, even the blue-faced alcoholic we had passed on the way here, huddling like a toad in a snowdrift, even Mitiok's brother, and of course Mitiok and I — we all had our own little embassy up there in the cold pure blueness.

We started working together with the city administration to help orphans. When we saw the needs of the homeless children, that is where our focus turned and continues to this day.

They're professionals at this in Russia, so no matter how many Jell-O shots or Jager shooters you might have downed at college mixers, no matter how good a drinker you might think you are, don't forget that the Russians - any Russian - can drink you under the table.

Who with a sword will come to us, he will die by the sword.