In super-aged Korea, social isolation leaves seniors searching for connection

Tucked away near the rear entrance of Seoul Station is a building bustling with older adults coming and going. Inside, dozens of white-haired visitors fill the space, some drinking cheap coffee while others watch television. Farther inside, two barbers cut the hair of older visitors. A narrow staircase leads down to a basement, where a small PC cafe with a row of computers and tables for "baduk" (go) and "janggi" (Korean chess) is located. Nearly every seat is occupied by an older person. “The door is always open and we don’t ask them to do anything, including pray,” said Woo Yeon-shik, a pastor who runs the center, Dream City, which also doubles as a church. Operating near Seoul Station since 2011, Dream City draws more than 300 older people each day from across the capital. For Woo, the space increasingly serves a purpose that goes beyond its original mission of helping homeless people: giving older people somewhere to go and someone to be around. That role has become more urgent as Korea, one of the world’s fastest-aging societies, grapples with high suicide rates and social i