코리아 헤럴드ㅣ [Take my hand] Letters to wounded hearts save lives
letter writer for Ongi, writes a reply to a correspondent who shared his concerns in an anonymous submission, Sept. 15. (Lee Si-jin/The Korea Herald)
'There are times when people feel like they're the only ones left in the world. We truly need a place where these stories can be heard'
On the stone-wall road surrounding Seoul's Deoksugung stands a small yellow mailbox, quieter than the red boxes of the state-run Korea Post. Unlike its official counterparts, this one — called Ongi Postbox — does not deliver mail. It exists to receive what cannot be spoken aloud: anonymous letters carrying fragments of pain and hope, longing to be heard. Across Korea, 95 Ongi Postboxes wait for those yearning to share their stories.
While a postal worker's job typically ends at the mailbox of the addressee, Choi Yoo-min, who works for Ongi Postbox, begins hers when she pulls out a letter and prepares to write back. She collects these letters from total strangers, never knowing the sender’s name, age or face. What she does know is that her role is to read them carefully and respond with all her heart — and her hand.
“We don’t know who they are,” Choi said in an interview with The Korea Herald on Sept. 15. “But we carefully choose letters we can answer with our own experiences — sometimes things I, too, have wrestled with deeply.”
Letters are submitted with a return address, and replies are sent within three to four weeks. Submissions are accepted both online and offline, but every response is handwritten. What began eight years ago with 10 volunteers has grown into a community of 800, responding to 41,200 letters so far.
At the heart of Ongi Postbox’s mission is connecting strangers through handwritten letters. Its CEO, Cho Hyun-sik, describes the organization as a nonprofit dedicated to preventing mental health problems in Korea.
letter writer for Ongi, writes a reply to a correspondent who shared his concerns in an anonymous submission, Sept. 15. (Lee Si-jin/The Korea Herald)
“People sometimes feel like they are the only ones left in the world,” Cho said. “They hold back their words, afraid that those who care about them might be hurt. But we truly need a place where these stories can be heard.”
Cho believes carefully written words can bring solace, preventing emotional difficulties from escalating into severe mental health issues or even suicide.
“Ongi Postbox may not directly intervene in suicide attempts,” he said, “but it offers a space where personal struggles and unspoken pain are acknowledged. There are no face-to-face conversations, yet it remains incredibly personal. Each word is written with the other person in mind. The recipient can feel the time, care and sincerity put into every sentence — a human touch.”
The project was inspired by Japanese mystery writer Keigo Higashino’s "The Miracles of the Namiya General Store," in which letters seeking advice are answered by a distant, empathetic figure. Cho, as a university student in 2017, was captivated by the idea and sought to bring that kind of “fairy-tale communication” to people facing real-life struggles.
Choi, a former office worker, joined Ongi in 2021 as a volunteer and later became a full-time staff member, witnessing the organization’s small but profound impact.
“It was from a father who had lost his child before he could see him grow,” she recalled of one particularly memorable correspondence. “What stayed with me most was when he wrote, ‘I really wanted to show you your first spring, but I'm sorry I couldn’t.’”
The sorrow in his words went beyond grief. Choi said the man was tormented that his first word to his son had to be “sorry” before the boy could even understand it.
Choi Yoo-min, a letter writer for Ongi, speaks with The Korea Herald on Sept. 15. (Lee Si-jin/The Korea Herald)
“I wanted to answer him, but I didn’t know where to begin,” she said softly. “I wanted to tell him that even if his son never learned the meaning of ‘sorry,’ he surely would have understood love — because it was written in his parents’ hearts. Every word was chosen so carefully, as if weighed over a very long time.”
In a world dominated by artificial intelligence and digital communication, Cho emphasizes that handwritten letters create a uniquely human bond.
“As AI becomes more commercialized and widely used, the need for human presence will only grow stronger. The more we rely on AI, the more we realize how essential genuine human connections are,” he said.
Reading letters from some who appear to be in high-risk groups, Cho noticed that loneliness, hopelessness and lethargy often stemmed not from a single tragic event, like the death of a loved one, but from persistent, unattended painful emotions.
Ongi Postbox mailbox located nearby the area of Deoksugung Palace in Jung-gu, central Seoul (Lee Si-jin/The Korea Herald)
“There are many online platforms for exchanging thoughts, but handwritten letters create a sincere human bond,” he said.
“Roughly 2 percent of the mail we receive comes from those in high-risk groups, facing serious emotional difficulties. Our strength lies in prevention, but we aim to grow our capacity to support them through professional counseling and care. They opened up to us in a letter because they trusted us, and with that trust, we want to offer real help.”
Choi’s experience as an Ongi postal worker has touched her as deeply as those she writes to; the letters themselves have become a source of courage.
“During difficult times, I photographed some of the letters I received and carried them with me, reading them again and again. I don’t know the recipients’ names or faces, but people have written letters that meant a great deal to me. I hope my letters can mean just as much to them.”
For more information, visit the Ongi Postbox website at www.ongibox.co.kr.
In the Take My Hand series, The Korea Herald shines a light on the unseen hands and quiet voices whose courage keeps despair from going unanswered. The series explores their stories — how simple acts of kindness ripple into lifelines, and how hope often emerges in the most ordinary moments. -- Ed.
원문ㅣ[Take my hand] Letters to wounded hearts save lives
▪ 온기 파트너십 협업 문의
아래 버튼을 통해 입력폼을 작성해주시면, 1-2일 내에 연락 전해드릴 수 있도록 할게요.
협업문의 바로가기 >
코리아 헤럴드ㅣ [Take my hand] Letters to wounded hearts save lives
letter writer for Ongi, writes a reply to a correspondent who shared his concerns in an anonymous submission, Sept. 15. (Lee Si-jin/The Korea Herald)
'There are times when people feel like they're the only ones left in the world. We truly need a place where these stories can be heard'
On the stone-wall road surrounding Seoul's Deoksugung stands a small yellow mailbox, quieter than the red boxes of the state-run Korea Post. Unlike its official counterparts, this one — called Ongi Postbox — does not deliver mail. It exists to receive what cannot be spoken aloud: anonymous letters carrying fragments of pain and hope, longing to be heard. Across Korea, 95 Ongi Postboxes wait for those yearning to share their stories.
While a postal worker's job typically ends at the mailbox of the addressee, Choi Yoo-min, who works for Ongi Postbox, begins hers when she pulls out a letter and prepares to write back. She collects these letters from total strangers, never knowing the sender’s name, age or face. What she does know is that her role is to read them carefully and respond with all her heart — and her hand.
“We don’t know who they are,” Choi said in an interview with The Korea Herald on Sept. 15. “But we carefully choose letters we can answer with our own experiences — sometimes things I, too, have wrestled with deeply.”
Letters are submitted with a return address, and replies are sent within three to four weeks. Submissions are accepted both online and offline, but every response is handwritten. What began eight years ago with 10 volunteers has grown into a community of 800, responding to 41,200 letters so far.
At the heart of Ongi Postbox’s mission is connecting strangers through handwritten letters. Its CEO, Cho Hyun-sik, describes the organization as a nonprofit dedicated to preventing mental health problems in Korea.
letter writer for Ongi, writes a reply to a correspondent who shared his concerns in an anonymous submission, Sept. 15. (Lee Si-jin/The Korea Herald)
“People sometimes feel like they are the only ones left in the world,” Cho said. “They hold back their words, afraid that those who care about them might be hurt. But we truly need a place where these stories can be heard.”
Cho believes carefully written words can bring solace, preventing emotional difficulties from escalating into severe mental health issues or even suicide.
“Ongi Postbox may not directly intervene in suicide attempts,” he said, “but it offers a space where personal struggles and unspoken pain are acknowledged. There are no face-to-face conversations, yet it remains incredibly personal. Each word is written with the other person in mind. The recipient can feel the time, care and sincerity put into every sentence — a human touch.”
The project was inspired by Japanese mystery writer Keigo Higashino’s "The Miracles of the Namiya General Store," in which letters seeking advice are answered by a distant, empathetic figure. Cho, as a university student in 2017, was captivated by the idea and sought to bring that kind of “fairy-tale communication” to people facing real-life struggles.
Choi, a former office worker, joined Ongi in 2021 as a volunteer and later became a full-time staff member, witnessing the organization’s small but profound impact.
“It was from a father who had lost his child before he could see him grow,” she recalled of one particularly memorable correspondence. “What stayed with me most was when he wrote, ‘I really wanted to show you your first spring, but I'm sorry I couldn’t.’”
The sorrow in his words went beyond grief. Choi said the man was tormented that his first word to his son had to be “sorry” before the boy could even understand it.
Choi Yoo-min, a letter writer for Ongi, speaks with The Korea Herald on Sept. 15. (Lee Si-jin/The Korea Herald)
“I wanted to answer him, but I didn’t know where to begin,” she said softly. “I wanted to tell him that even if his son never learned the meaning of ‘sorry,’ he surely would have understood love — because it was written in his parents’ hearts. Every word was chosen so carefully, as if weighed over a very long time.”
In a world dominated by artificial intelligence and digital communication, Cho emphasizes that handwritten letters create a uniquely human bond.
“As AI becomes more commercialized and widely used, the need for human presence will only grow stronger. The more we rely on AI, the more we realize how essential genuine human connections are,” he said.
Reading letters from some who appear to be in high-risk groups, Cho noticed that loneliness, hopelessness and lethargy often stemmed not from a single tragic event, like the death of a loved one, but from persistent, unattended painful emotions.
Ongi Postbox mailbox located nearby the area of Deoksugung Palace in Jung-gu, central Seoul (Lee Si-jin/The Korea Herald)
“There are many online platforms for exchanging thoughts, but handwritten letters create a sincere human bond,” he said.
“Roughly 2 percent of the mail we receive comes from those in high-risk groups, facing serious emotional difficulties. Our strength lies in prevention, but we aim to grow our capacity to support them through professional counseling and care. They opened up to us in a letter because they trusted us, and with that trust, we want to offer real help.”
Choi’s experience as an Ongi postal worker has touched her as deeply as those she writes to; the letters themselves have become a source of courage.
“During difficult times, I photographed some of the letters I received and carried them with me, reading them again and again. I don’t know the recipients’ names or faces, but people have written letters that meant a great deal to me. I hope my letters can mean just as much to them.”
For more information, visit the Ongi Postbox website at www.ongibox.co.kr.
In the Take My Hand series, The Korea Herald shines a light on the unseen hands and quiet voices whose courage keeps despair from going unanswered. The series explores their stories — how simple acts of kindness ripple into lifelines, and how hope often emerges in the most ordinary moments. -- Ed.
원문ㅣ[Take my hand] Letters to wounded hearts save lives
▪ 온기 파트너십 협업 문의
아래 버튼을 통해 입력폼을 작성해주시면, 1-2일 내에 연락 전해드릴 수 있도록 할게요.
협업문의 바로가기 >