December 16, 2020 At some point during the past 10 months, you probably caught yourself playing “what do I miss most?” Whether it’s a leisurely coffee with a group of friends at a sidewalk café or feeling alive at a blaring rock concert, I hope the memory gnawing at you arouses heartfelt longing rather than self-pity. In my case, it’s the museum visits that I miss most. Here in Israel, where we live from lockdown to lockdown, the museums never had a chance. Citizens are deprived, on a daily basis, of the inspirations that were once available to them. It’s been months since I’ve marveled at the extensive French Impressionist collection in Tel Aviv or the creative exhibits at the Diaspora Museum which celebrate the miraculous ingathering of exiles. So in order to avoid feeling too wistful, I’ve adopted the weekly practice of turning the pages of the oversized textbooks that I acquired as an Art History minor during college.