I am part of the first generation born under capitalism, and it shows. My birth certificate still says I was born in the Socialist Republic of Romania. “Socialist” is crossed out with a black pen, as if denying our political past became a collective mission. Gifts replaced conversations. Care became practical, packed in red, white and blue checkered plastic bags. Sometimes families were quietly replaced with new ones, out of sight, out of mind.

Love is not an orange and On our own exist within this reality. Beyond genres and forms, both films take the painful reality of migration and surround it with a magical aura, not to soften the blow, but to create the mythology of a broken generation. Over time, many of us learned that it takes a village to raise a child, and sometimes that village had to be rebuilt. For those not fully consumed by the logic of the new economy, one possibility remains: that what was fragmented can still be held together, collectively. As long as we nurture each other, we can starve the system!