'I was 16 years old when the siege of Sarajevo started, and at that age you need to live a little,' says Samira Džanko. And so, while Serb shells rained downed upon her city, she would tell her parents she was going to her friend’s house, then she’d run with her friend to the Kinemica Club bar. It was a 25-minute journey on foot; on one occasion, they were chased by sniper fire. 'It was very dangerous,' Džanko says, 'but the thing that frightened us most was that, if we were wounded, our parents would find out where we’d been.'

Now Džanko is in her thirties and she still hasn’t dared tell her parents where she spent so many nights during the war. But she still comes occasionally to the Kinemica Club, although it’s been moved from its old location to an adjoining street because the original building was severely damaged by shells. 'But this is the same,' says Džanko. 'It looks identical.'

It’s a dark-red, low-lit, basement joint – the original bar, too, lay underground which protected it from mortar attacks – furnished with arches, alcoves, and marble-topped tables. Clusters of fairy lights hang in strings from the ceiling and backlit movie posters adorn the walls. Every night, the bar is heaving. The music is loud and the clientele is young: this is the university district and few are over the age of 25. They sip Sarajevsko beer from the local brewery whose well supplied the only source of water to Sarajevo residents during their 44-month lock-in.

In those days a curfew was in force; when Džanko and her friends couldn’t return home to bed, they stayed in the bar all night. When the electricity was cut, the dark basement was lit by candles and music provided by men with guitars. The patrons often drank water because there wasn’t anything else and, in any case, nobody had any money.

'Sometimes I come back here with my friends from the war and we talk about those days,' says Džanko. 'Of course we’re far too old for this place now, and when we get on the dance floor, these kids stare at us.' She pauses, then says, 'You know, in a strange way, those were nice times. Everyone stuck together. You never knew when you left the bar if you’d be back again. And some of us never did come back.'