When I was there it was destroyed. A beautiful bridge, and symbol, handcrafted in style, by those wise enough to see it's necessity, and it's fitting graceful arch, set with a mountain backdrop, between the Croat and Muslim quarters of Mostar.
The Croats had destroyed the Muslim side, as well as the bridge, in a mindless frenzy. Croats and Muslims were supposed to be allies, but things happen in war.
They have rebuilt the bridge since those awful days of civil war, and restored the graceful curve, and dignity that the bridge seemed to hold. Nowadays the local youth dive from high atop the middle of the arch into the river below, in brave defiance.
I will always remember when the bridge was not there, though, when the modern world thought it savagely useful to destroy medieval beauty.
traveller's road spanning rivers
and uniting mountains
shattered in senseless explosions
the past destroyed by the future