One of those rare cases when I have to make a huge effort in order not to cry over a New York Times story. A travel story.

Emerging From the Shadow of War, Sarajevo Slowly Reclaims Its Lost Innocence, by Christopher Solomon:

[...]

Fikret Kahrovic was in the militia defending the city, but he does not offer much about the war, in a way that makes me think he could say plenty. He used to be angry all the time, he says, but not anymore.

"It was," he says, "like a very old and very bad movie that you watched once upon a time." His voice seems flat, affectless.

[...]

And ordnance. From the countless shells that had rained on Sarajevo, the craftsman had stamped flower vases. Bullets had become ballpoint pens that read "Bosnia."

[...]

Among the war's many small cruelties was how it forced residents to loathe their beloved hills; the snipers watched from those hills.

Now the city has its views back.

Sometimes, rounding a corner on a snowy afternoon, I would look up to catch a shard of sunshine passing over white roofs on the steep, snow-covered hillsides above the city, and black pines disappearing into low clouds — a glimpse of Switzerland strung between minaret and bullet-pocked cornice. [...]

***

I wanted to run away to Sarajevo a year ago, but instead I got pregnant and now I have Marta.