Dear readers,

Autumn, my favorite season, fled early in 2024, but at least Mother Nature gifted us with the most majestic first snow. Alongside the winter breeze, I wrapped up my second year at university and Quill. Within these years of change, I’ve experienced a chaos of emotions, more intense and varied than ever before. At times I felt like a misplaced puzzle piece, struggling to fit into the broader picture of the school community. But behind the facade to blend in, this feeling of disorder and displacement seem to be shared by everyone in their 20s: ironically, it was this shared sense of isolation that strengthened the bond between me and my fellow members. So whether it was the guilt or the defiance, joy or the sorrow, isolation and its tolerance, I look back, and say, at least it was beautiful.

Isn’t that the irony of scattered fragments, disorderly yet weirdly beautiful? Originally, our 82nd theme of Fragments intended to play with this idea, to expand the term’s interpretation beyond its negative connotations. A fragment was once a part of a whole, so is it now unable to fulfill its intended purpose? Or does it gain a new purpose? The world moves at a fast pace—outpacing laws and at times even culture—breaking things along the way. How can we find new beauty, new meaning, in this chaotic world? How do we piece back fragments and reconstruct identity based on this new world? And observe how, though back together, its form has changed, ever so slightly. 

To the naked eye, white light appears uniform. But when dispersed, it reveals the spectrum of distinct constituting colors: fragments that, though individually vivid, collectively form an illusion of singularity. And just like light passing through a prism, a seemingly singular entity can be dispersed into its many components, where the fragments are not new, but have always existed. The same holds true for identity, whether that of a country, community, or individual: what may ostensibly appear homogeneous, is a collection of all the contradictions, tensions, and individual stories that define it. But perhaps it is only through fragmentation—through dispersion—that we can fully understand what we take for granted. 

Old stories linger on our campus, and new conflicts emerge. We open SNU Society with a piece on the history of our very own campus, often overlooked in our daily walks to class. Our in-campus investigations continue: from debates on the usage of electric vehicles (whether you love them or hate them) to a critique of the contemporary Student Council which seems to embody a new era of apolitical leadership. But perhaps tensions and disagreements still display a shared endearment towards our university. 

Beyond campus, Features delves into larger societal shifts and the challenges they create. A look into Sejong City—once an ambitious dream—reveals the administrative failures that reduced it to no more than a lofty vision. We also examine the dilemma law faces as technology giants accelerate innovation while edging toward monopoly. From this macro-level conflict, we zoom in on generational tensions by exploring the rise of No-Kid Zones. Even amid the growing friction in this fragmented society, empathy may offer a path forward. On a more personal scale, a piece analyzes self-help books as a reflection of the mental state of Korean youth.

In Arts and Culture, our articles explore memory and its preservation, distortion, and transformation through art. How does digitally assisted memory reshape our perception of nostalgia, and what does the film Past Lives reveal about this theme? How does House of Hummingbird use the female gaze in cinema to portray girlhood, and what does it say about the act of remembering history? Our articles shift to cultural disagreements and societal changes. We turn to the conflict within the Korean Football Association, questioning how this split may sacrifice performance of the league. Alongside these issues, we examine the commodification of self-love, once an act of resistance, now appropriated by corporations; in the over-consumerist setting we live in, how can we reclaim the practice?

Finally, the Short Articles section begins with a trilogy that follows the journey of Korean elite athlete trainees and the systemic failures that leave them lost once they leave their dreams of turning professional. In another piece, we look at AI’s growing dominance and a natural resurgence of the necessity for nuclear energy in response to such demands. What Korean dopamine-centric media and the return of the thin beauty ideal reveal about the ever-amplifying influence of social media on modern culture. We discuss the failures of panda conservation policies, the effect of US-China trade conflict on Korea’s automotive industry, and the ongoing issues with safety regulations and traffic accidents on campus.

Welcome, readers, to a selection of articles that dissect a seemingly singular entity, fragmenting it into the constituents that form it: whether it be the individual shards of history that shape the present or the current conflicts and divisions that may have gone unnoticed. How, in an ever-changing world, can we reconstruct meaning, identity, and systems?

It was a pleasure reading these articles at every stage and having my worldview gently expanded. I express my deepest appreciation to the Quill staff. Each writer has brought admirable talent to the table, and the editors and sub-editors have polished and refined these powerful ideas into the final product we present to you today. To our art team, thank you for bringing all these great ideas to life. Each design and aesthetic decision shaped this issue into something beautiful. And to our photographers who have captured the essence of this edition, I express my admiration for your work that adds depth and dimension to these pages. Last but not least, thank you to the strategic team, for the dedication to make Quill recognized in our school community.

Sincerely yours,

Joo Young