A few short days ago I was doing as I often do, wasting time on Twitter, a favorite pastime of mine. As usual, I learned about major news on Twitter before it hit my other social media accounts or news stations. I learned about the terrorist attacks in Paris. The news breaks my heart a little each and every day, but on this day, this particular news stung a bit harder than most. It gave me the same eerie feeling I had when watching the second plane fly into the Twin Towers. I don’t think the news struck me harder because the victims were European and perhaps on some level I simply care less for those that live in the Middle East. That is simplistic thinking. I care very much about people living in the Middle East. But this attack did not take place in an area embattled by war. This took place during typical Friday night festivities of everyday Western life, my life. Going out to dinner, to see a game, or watch a concert, are all activities that happen with regularity outside of a war zone.

I combed social media for more information. I could not look away.

On Instagram I found the accounts two people that checked in at the concert venue that was attacked, The Bataclan. I immediately followed the accounts for word of what happened to these people, just out for a fun evening, who were thrown headfirst without warning into war. It was such a relief when the first person checked in and posted to Instagram that she was safe, I eagerly anticipated a similar notice from the other account. The second Instagram account had a lovely picture of a man and a woman, whose names I soon learned, Gilles Leclerc and Marianne. Through the comments I was pointed to a Twitter account of a family friend (I think), who was posting updates about the two. It was not terribly long before we were updated that Marianne had been located and was safe. She was reported to be in shock and had no memory of the attack. I sincerely hope that she never has to relive the horror of that night. No word on the young man. I checked in on Twitter and Instagram every hour or two for days, waiting for news. I somehow, like many people, felt instant connection with this young couple. Thousands posted on social media about this unusual connection we all felt, all of us holding out hope that the young man would be found safe. Perhaps he was among the wounded that had yet to be named by overrun hospitals? I learned about where he worked. I looked at his Instagram photos. Social media accounts shared pictures of his impressive tattoos. With each passing hour I worried more that the news would be bad. Unfortunately, that instinct was correct. On Monday afternoon I learned through the Twitter account of the family friend that it was confirmed that Gilles was among the dead. It hit me harder than I anticipated. A total stranger, half a world away, and yet his death brought me to tears.

This demonstrates the power of social media and of photography. Seeing each others everyday lives connects us. Though these media we see how alike we all are and it connects us in ways I never imaged it would. It feels intimate, which is jarring and surreal, but also welcome. The attacks in the U.S. on September 11^th 2001 took place before we had Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. I find myself wondering what it would have been like if social media was prevalent during 9/11.

The single photograph Gilles Leclerc posted to Instagram that terrible evening brought people from all over the world together. We hoped together. We mourn together.

Rest in peace, Gilles Leclerc, a stranger from half a world away.