My step son always associated this number with life in the Street of Knights, back when you had to weave the payment to avoid the locals pissed on high-grade ...

I got into Datblygu in 1992 when I moved in with my girlfriend in a room in a very romantic Leopold Street, and spent the best part of three months on my back

with a slipped disc. I used to listen to Libertino on a cassette over and over again. Later I found out what the lyrics were, and it made it better. My favourite was about being nailed to a cross by a woman. 

My captain later went on to become very good friends with Dave, and was about to start creating music with him. Sometimes he would pass his regards to his pal in Latvia, which was nice because there he was: a foot in the unconscious soul (of another language and poetry and musing and music and pagan soul - transhumanists can go fuck a cobot) and other in my conscious inner-ear. The kind of cadence that lends humorous weight to disgust.