I forgot.  What can I say? I should have known there was no way to get from one place to another when the Passover vacation begins.  I should have written a nice letter of consolation and stayed home.  But something drove me to make the trip that should have taken 30 minutes but took an hour, each way.  Most of the time we didn’t move, but we must have moved some of the time because we made to the museum just in time for a lecture about Sebba.

We raced past the tents and exhibits of the hostages, rebuffed the ladies to invited us to make matzos with them, and ran to the museum library just in time. 

It was liking exiting the crazy real world to enter the sane make believe world of art in a different time zone.