Turn the key to suite 200 at Hotel Castello, Ayrton Senna's bolthole amid the pastoral peace of Emilia-Romagna, and one finds the decor has evolved little since 1994: there is still a curious teardrop-shaped mirror, a dated radio built into a cabinet, a four-part montage of Chinese scenery dominating the wall of the master bedroom.
It has become, rather like the discreet grave in São Paulo's Morumbi cemetery, a kind of maudlin Graceland among Senna-philes for whom the passing of more than two decades has served only to enrich their idol's mystique. For it is here that Formula One's most mesmerising champion spent his final night alive.
Senna's demeanour that evening was distracted, tormented even. The late Sid Watkins, the sport's chief doctor for 26 years, recalled how the Brazilian had been crying on his shoulder as Roland Ratzenberger's death in qualifying, in a 195mph (313kmph) crash at Imola's Villeneuve corner, signalled the first fatality in F1 for 168 races.
Martin Brundle was staying in the same hotel in Castel San Pietro Terme, 10 miles from the circuit along the old Roman road, as Senna returned. "I saw Ayrton in the lift," he says. "He was quite clearly upset. We spoke briefly, but he wasn't happy."