President Lee Orders Shutdown of DMZ Loudspeakers Blasting Anti-North Korea Propaganda
이재명 정부, 대북 확성기 방송 중단 지시 대북 전단 살포 중단 촉구

Updated on June 11, 2025 The other day, while sorting through an old family album from my late mother-in-law, I came across a black-and-white photograph of my husband as a baby—barely a year old. He stood in a sea of flowers, gazing intently at a single blossom, as if the rest of the world had faded away. His quiet focus, his reverence for something small and beautiful—that was him. “This is him,” I whispered, struck by how completely the photo captured the essence of the man I love. Then came the ache of regret. I wished I had asked his mother about that moment—where it was taken, what she remembered. She passed away last September, and with her, the story behind the image was lost. I wasn’t just mourning her absence—I was grieving the disappearance of a memory I never thought to preserve. That photograph made me think of another kind of loss: the millions of Korean families torn apart by war and division. Many still hold photos of parents, siblings, or children they haven’...