I don't much like hospitals. My father was a chronic invalid whose health problems required frequent hospitilization and my sister continued that tradition. I would be really happy if I never had to go into a hospital again. But what with one thing and another, hospitals happen. I spent eight hours at the Jules Stein Eye Clinic in LA yesterday, watching over a friend who needed eye surgery and then needed significant aftercare for pain management and blood oxygen levels. Around one I wandered out of the recovery room looking for someplace to grab a bite. I noticed the corridors were lined with cheery posters, including a version of Monet's "Water lilies" I'd never seen before. I stepped closer to the "poster" and discovered ... it was an original painting. I went back and looked at the other "posters" I'd bypassed. A Picasso. Another Monet. A Raoul Dufy. There was a Van Gogh. A treasure of art just hanging on the walls in an otherwise featureless corridor in a maze of featureless corridors.