But that does not mean that the good times can begin. The level of trauma is profound, as yet imponderably so. The boy on the previous page was in an orphanage in Mostar, the two children awaiting their turn at the standpipe were in Goradze. They have all had experiences that will not be easily erased or come to terms with.
The state of siege of Bosnian cities and enclaves meant that organisations devoted to helping these children worked in total frustration. Unicef, for instance, was first of all concerned with nutrition, then education - in the schools in some towns even paper was a luxury. As for text books, they were few and far between. As the world knows, it was often not possible to get through to give food to the malnourished, let alone solace to the mind. What was always clear was that the business of rehabilitation - what they call psycho-social work - was going to be of the essence: these children had to be retrieved from their trauma. Now perhaps care-workers have the opportunity to embark upon it. Children, like the two above left waiting by a rubble skip in Mostar, where the narrow streets for so long resounded deafeningly to the sound of war, are only just beginning to experience quiet. As for peace of mind, how long will that take? The boy crossing the bridge is in Gorazde and the bridge is one built underneath the main bridge which was too exposed to sniper fire. Children could run through it; adults oftenbanged their heads. The group of little boys, also in Goradze, make an extraordinarily convincing tableau of military men. What Unicef and all the other care organisations in Bosnia are now embarking on is the crucial business of making them feel that not every man is a man with a gun