Strange visitors appear at any places. The Lonely Heart Club wasn't an exception neither. This tall and thin, humble woman in her late 50s, her short hair half silverly white, half black, a wedding ring on her finger, modest clothing, minimal make-up... felt like she planned to end up somewhere else, totally else.<br/>Yet she was there, desperately looking for somebody with her eyes, squeezing her small bag that hung from her shoulder. Her slightly wrinkled face was haggard but very kind.<br/>"Excuse me. May I talk with the leader of this place? If it's possible..."<br/>She was nervous, it was obvious, though she seemed very determined.