Tents instead of the streets: 70 people tried living by the rules.
On the banks of the Oka River, in a forest outside Moscow, a tent camp was set up — and around seventy homeless people came there to try to break out of their usual life on the streets. Not everyone made it: getting into the camp wasn’t easy — you had to get a chest X-ray in advance, go through a tough “grilling,” and show up sober at the bus on departure day.
And before the trip, there was a short piece of paper to sign — simple rules, clearly stated: no alcohol, no swearing, no fights, no stealing. In other words: play fair — and start over.
On the banks of the Oka River, in a forest outside Moscow, a tent camp was set up — and around seventy homeless people came there to try to break out of their usual life on the streets. Not everyone made it: getting into the camp wasn’t easy — you had to get a chest X-ray in advance, go through a tough “grilling,” and show up sober at the bus on departure day.
And before the trip, there was a short piece of paper to sign — simple rules, clearly stated: no alcohol, no swearing, no fights, no stealing. In other words: play fair — and start over.
Alexander and Lilit Gorelov, the organizers of the “You’re Not Alone” camp.
A similar experiment is being carried out in Russia for the first time. It was conceived and launched by Alexander and Lilit Gorelov — foster parents and the heads of the non-profit organization House of Mercy. The camp was supported by Moscow’s Department of Social Protection and by NGOs working with homelessness.
In the first days, Sasha and Lilit kept getting calls from colleagues — and the questions were almost always the same: “Are you still alive?” “How many people have already left?” “How do you break up fights?” Lilit just smiles: no one has left, no one has gotten drunk, no one has disappeared — and not a single phone has gone missing.
On the way to the camp, participants admitted that many people decided not to go at all. They were afraid it might be a trap — that they could be taken away into forced labor.
In the first days, Sasha and Lilit kept getting calls from colleagues — and the questions were almost always the same: “Are you still alive?” “How many people have already left?” “How do you break up fights?” Lilit just smiles: no one has left, no one has gotten drunk, no one has disappeared — and not a single phone has gone missing.
On the way to the camp, participants admitted that many people decided not to go at all. They were afraid it might be a trap — that they could be taken away into forced labor.
The camp program was built around two main tracks: spiritual and moral support, and social reintegration. Every evening, guests came to meet with the participants — ministers from different faiths, people who had once been in a similar situation and managed to turn their lives around, as well as psychologists. They talked about setting goals, taking responsibility, and why it matters to step out of a familiar “comfort zone” — even if that comfort zone is the street and its survival rules.
The camp itself was organized like a game with real meaning. Participants were divided into “cities,” each with its own name, traditions, and even its own system of governance: some chose a monarchy, others a republic. Every “city” had its own currency, a treasurer, roles and responsibilities, and small “production” tasks — all designed to help people practice cooperation, accountability, and community living.
The camp itself was organized like a game with real meaning. Participants were divided into “cities,” each with its own name, traditions, and even its own system of governance: some chose a monarchy, others a republic. Every “city” had its own currency, a treasurer, roles and responsibilities, and small “production” tasks — all designed to help people practice cooperation, accountability, and community living.
Before filming in the camp, we originally planned to “transform” the homeless participants with the help of stylists and photograph them in curated looks. We brought a stylist — and a huge pile of clothes.
But then we realized it was more important not to interfere. We chose to step back and let people decide for themselves how they wanted to look in front of the camera.
When I photographed them, I asked each person to remember moments when they felt self-respect — and when they were truly happy. And in those seconds, something real appeared: not a “look,” but the person.
But then we realized it was more important not to interfere. We chose to step back and let people decide for themselves how they wanted to look in front of the camera.
When I photographed them, I asked each person to remember moments when they felt self-respect — and when they were truly happy. And in those seconds, something real appeared: not a “look,” but the person.
Egorich
Egorych doesn’t talk much about himself — he mostly jokes, recites poems, and slips effortlessly into different personas. He says his house burned down a year ago. Now he lives in one of the social shelters and dreams of staging a play with other homeless people. He admits he feels truly happy when he manages to create a new character.
Tamara and Sasha
Tamara and Sasha have been legally married for 17 years. Three years ago, according to Tamara, her husband threw her out onto the street and started living with another woman. After that, he was tricked out of his apartment and ended up homeless as well. Since then, they haven’t been apart.
Tamara says she was happiest when she worked as a cook and could afford to buy things for herself. In the camp, she changed outfits three times a day.
Tamara says she was happiest when she worked as a cook and could afford to buy things for herself. In the camp, she changed outfits three times a day.
Viktor
Viktor used to be a major concert promoter in Yakutia. A couple of times he went bankrupt and eventually moved to Moscow. After one long party, the apartment owner kicked him out. He says he didn’t even notice when he became homeless. He was too embarrassed to reach out to old friends — he thought he could handle it on his own. He says he was happiest when he was organizing a big event and everything went right.
Dima
Dima’s parents gave him up when he was six and sent him to an orphanage. He never received the housing he was entitled to. In 2003, by pure chance, he found out that, according to the official records, he was listed as deceased. The police confiscated the passport he had in his hands. Ever since then, he has been trying to restore his documents and “come back to life” legally.
He serves as a bell ringer at a church, does odd jobs as an OB-GYN, and loves rock ’n’ roll. He says his happiest time was when he had a girlfriend and played in a band.
He serves as a bell ringer at a church, does odd jobs as an OB-GYN, and loves rock ’n’ roll. He says his happiest time was when he had a girlfriend and played in a band.
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