Another week, another round of exam results for Britain's teens. There were fewer photographs of girls jumping in the air, that particular penchant of the UK press seems reserved for A-Level results day only, but the 600,000 picking up their GCSE grades prompted just as many debates about standards and grades.Thousands of miles away, a tragic milestone was passing for another generation of children as the UN marked the millionth child forced to flee Syria and its escalating civil war...
Across the UK, British kids are getting ready - most likely with heavy hearts - to return to the classroom as the new school year starts. But for Syria's children, the routines of childhood usually taken for granted will pass unobserved. Because today marks a tragic milestone in Syria's brutal conflict: one million children have now been forced to flee their homeland. Children make up half of all refugees from the Syrian conflict, the vast majority of them under the age of 11. And these are just the children who have managed to escape across the border to Jordan, Egypt, Lebanon, Turkey, or Iraq
Why do individual riot officers who may sympathise with the causes of protesters continue to use force to suppress them? How can officers shoot at a protest that they could have been a part of, had they not chosen to become members of the police? They too experience injustices, have families that must be fed and educated and hold opinions on social and political issues.
As I scrolled through the tweets, and clicked on the links for videos and pictures, I was filled with an overpowering sense of helpless outrage as to the mindless, senseless, overwhelming atrocity that was carried out overnight in the suburbs of Damascus... Nothing in my life to date has prepared me with a sufficient vocabulary to communicate the horrors of these photographs.
Lebanon has a population of just over four million, and we are now hosting more than one million Syrians. With the history of conflict in this country, it is our natural instinct to welcome refugees, but we are being overwhelmed. People are extremely worried about the pressure on the economy, about the increase in crime, and of course about the sharp rise in sectarian violence.
As well as playing basketball with the children, Gasol chatted with Tolin and her sister. Tolin told him how she fled Syria with her family seven months ago to escape the violence and bombing. She also told him she still wants to be a doctor when she grows up, even though she hasn't been to school since she left Syria...
In 2012, almost 8,000 Syrians arrived in Greece by irregular means, compared to 1,709 in the first four months of this year, according to data from the Greek police. Most migrants and refugees used to head for the land border between Turkey and Greece at Evros, in the north, but in the summer of 2012 the Greek authorities built a wall and deployed a 2,000-strong security force to stop the influx of new arrivals.
Thousands of migrants and refugees from all over the world have made their homes in Istanbul. Many have escaped conflict-ridden countries such as Afghanistan, Iraq and Democratic Republic of Congo. The latest country to join this list is Syria. Most of those who have escaped from Syria's bombs live in refugee camps along the Turkish-Syrian border, but a growing number are making their way to Istanbul.
More than 380,000 Syrians have taken refuge in Turkey. The majority - some 350,000 - are registered, giving them the right to live in the refugee camps run by the Turkish Red Crescent. The remaining 30,000 are either waiting for registration, or have decided not to register so as to have the freedom to move on to other parts of Turkey.
Alia Mosa lies on a bed in a hospital in northern Syria. Her feet are wrapped in bandages. She is angry and despairing, and desperate to tell her story. "It was 5am," she says. "They launched missiles and my house was totally destroyed. Four of my children were killed and I was injured. One of my daughters and my husband survived."
For two years in Syria the conflict, which fractured Heshan's family, put a stop to celebrations, and this year in Domiz refugee camp in northern Iraq there isn't the money or the spirit to mark the occasion. "It's not a special day anymore. It just happens and no-one notices," his mother, Naslya, tells me. "There is no life in this tent."