In 1945, just before Korea’s liberation, poet Yun Dong-ju died at age twenty-seven in Fukuoka Prison. Following his final gaze, a young man makes a pilgrimage across Japan. Through encounters with Japanese people who remember the poet, he is confronted with the memories of an outsider. This visual essay walks through today's landscapes to trace the ghosts of the past, exploring the possibility of healing and reflection across the boundaries of nationality and time.

In 2025—eighty years after his death in a Japanese prison and eighty years after Japan’s defeat in World War II—a monument to Korean independence activist and poet Yun Dongju will be erected in Tokyo. Yet even now, in Kyoto, where Yun spent his university years, and in Fukuoka, where he died in custody, there are Japanese citizens who raise stone memorials and hold commemorations on the anniversary of his death. Why do they remember him still?

Tracing the landscapes Yun might have seen and listening to the voices of those who recite his poems in the name of peace, The Hospital walks alongside people who carry the flame of resistance across time and voice a self-reflection that transcends borders. Their presence is a beacon of conscience, guiding the way through a turbulent era. Just as Yun’s poetry became “the color of a beautiful soul, the color of consolation, the color of encouragement, the color that moves us,” the film confronts our own era’s sense of powerlessness and invites us to embrace the possibility of healing—to willingly face a “new road.”

Poetry is said to have no power. And yet, the poet Yun Dongju sought to build a hospital with his words. This film is my attempt to build one of my own. My journey began with his line: “After enduring an unknown pain for so long, I came here for the first time.” Following his gaze, I traveled through Japan, documenting the places he saw and meeting those who keep his memory alive. In doing so, I began to learn how to place my own body alongside another’s pain. This is a quiet confession—of injustice, of shame, of helplessness—but also a testament to the only form of lyricism, and resistance, that I believe truly matters.

• Producer송상현 SONG Sanghyun
• Cinematography 송상현 SONG Sanghyun
• Edit 송상현 SONG Sanghyun