I was sure no one would be there.  Elections of the board of the Writers’ Association in Hebrew couldn’t be terribly interesting, I thought.  So I promised I’d be five minutes and went in.  But I had to show my green pass, get checked off the list, go through a bunch of welcoming candidates, and then get in line for the registration and voting booths.  There was a lot of kissing on the way and promises to get back to the stage and screen.  But I kept thinking about the old days, about the enormous events we had, the amazing friday afternoons at the cafe, the interviews and conferences – above all, the respect given to literature and the development of a culture.  Now it’s all nostalgia.  Nostalgia and maybe hope