In the pitter-patter rain, a woman walks in the dark night. She has no umbrella or cloak, and only short water droplets fall from herę«shoulder-long hair. The dim light stretches her shadow long, and her arms hugging her chest tremble in the cold. At the corner, there is a small shed. She stops, squats down next to the shed, and then cries hysterically. I am this woman, and this time, I runaway from home in the name of love.