On Bonham Strand West in Sheung Wan, there is an old man everyone calls Uncle. He has been helping people write letters from a street stall for over forty years. In the old days, not many people were literate, so anyone needing to send a letter back to their hometown would seek him out. His calligraphy is powerful and vigorous; every letter brims with emotion.

Times changed. Literacy rose, and with phones and the internet, fewer and fewer people came to him. But Uncle refuses to close up shop. He says: What I write is not just words — it is the bond between people. Some things WhatsApp cannot express.

Last Mid-Autumn Festival, a seventy-year-old grandmother came holding a yellowed letter. It turned out Uncle had written it for her forty years ago, addressed to her husband abroad. The husband had passed away, and now she wanted Uncle to write one more — to be sent to heaven.

Uncle took the letter, his hands trembling slightly. He slowly ground the ink, and wrote stroke by stroke. When he finished, both old people wept. Uncle said: This letter does not need a stamp — just send it with your heart, and it will arrive.