Romanian Cinema

We waited for our theater to open, a Romanian lady and I, chatting. She hadn’t been home for forty years, she admitted — not even since the end of Communism. Ceausescu (she spat the name like poison) had imprisoned her father for seven years. For what, she didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.

Further reflections on events in Iran and revolutions in general, with reference to Eastern Europe in 1989, Romanian films, and my pal Marek, who grew up on the other side of a once supposedly impregnable Iron Curtain.