It is Spring, but it is not yet spring. In my street, the jasmine was flowering in July. So what? You can either let climate crisis get you down or you can party like it’s 1300. Entering Caves’s suite, I meet gallery director, Storm Gold. European seasons don’t make sense here anyway. Gold is wearing a trucker hat that suggests he belongs to “Western Hydrodynamic Research.” On the double bed of the Windsor Hotel room is a set of tails, hair arranged by one exhibiting artist, Noriko Nakamura. Gold is in the midst of explaining to a guest that Caves was named for the earliest examples of a known art gallery, perhaps Chauvet, but also perhaps Madjedbebe.