To be honest, I didn’t know much about him. I knew who he was, of course, and the cultural role he occupied, but I don’t think I’d paid much attention to him until last night, when I saw the news. I can’t say that I knew him well. I can only say that “Je suis Charlie” in the sense that he was my fellow citizen, and, like me, in the business of selling his ideas about politics. But that’s enough.
I didn’t know the twelve journalists who were murdered at Charlie Hebdo, either. But j’étais Charlie then, and je suis Charlie now. I am for freedom of speech and freedom of the press. I am against murder.
I’m sad, shocked, and demoralized. This is the last thing my poor country needed.
Everyone, by now, has seen the footage. If I’d known what I was about to see, I never would have watched it. But I didn’t know. Utter horror. A vital young man in his prime, the crack of a bullet—the way his body slumped. I knew he hadn’t survived the moment I saw it.
We’re all accustomed, now, to seeing people …
