2015 - Imme Visser
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Philipe (fiction)

Philipe wanted to make me feel bad about myself. It was a power move. He knew that I was madly in love with him, and even though he did, he kissed a red-haired girl when I was near. Okay, I thought, that’s it, tough luck. He obviously likes this girl more than he likes me. It hurt. I had enough.

Over the summer, Philipe didn’t stop contacting me, seeking me out. I was embarrassed, always giving pure honesty to him, asking for anything in return but receiving nothing. After a while it didn’t bother me so much. It was summer, I was having a good time with my friends: we often hung out at parks or climbed the wooden towers in the forest. We jumped fences and rolled down hills. Philipe was never there. He had never been part of my group of friends. They thought he was nasty.READ MORE

Bath in April

Bath in April is so gloriously nice and pretty it’s almost unfair to the rest of the world. Brits seem to care about the state of their neighbourhoods, and I see beds of carefully selected and planted flowers everywhere. There’s more tulips here than I’ve ever seen in the Netherlands.
Imagine a town shaped of ancient Roman buildings and houses in ‘Bath stone’, a beige-to-orange pastel stone that is quite comforting and rustic. It works to make everything feel more summery in spring and for everything to feel more autumny in winter.

Bath makes me breathe. Breathe in, exhale. It is a town of creativity and ease. Of polite queues at bus stops and students dressed up as Pokémon at night. Of Mediterranean scenes on a Saturday night when everyone is out on the town and I have to skip around short skirted legs and crying creatures with heels in their hands. Bustling with life and eerily quiet at the same time. It’s a place where I can laugh out loud with my roommates, have pic nics in the sun and talk in Dutch at the Royal Crescent or stand on the balcony with a freshly made coffee in hand and look at all the light touches. It is mine.READ MORE


Happy New Year, blarbs! I recently took the plane back to my home in Bath from my other home in Arnhem – well, not directly, that would’ve been too easy – and re-experienced some of my earliest moving-to-the-UK thoughts. It’s less easy being back in this home now I’ve spend some quality time at my other home. That being said, I immediately know why that is, I even wrote a paper on this matter before the Christmas holidays, damn it. In this paper I explained the differences between two terms I thought of myself, namely a ‘physical home’ and an ’emotive home’. I explained how these types of homes relate to each other and that one doesn’t necessarily always have an emotive home, as this is to do with where you most feel at home.

And for me, my emotive home turns out to be people. My close-knit group of friends who are all insane and feel like my self-chosen family. You guys are my home. And wherever I am attaching people to me, that becomes home, too. Especially when it’s so cute as Bath. However, since I’ve landed I’ve not yet seen many people here and I guess that the more familiar faces I see, the more I feel at home here again. Easy peasy. And in the meantime, I will write.

Oh, right, my new year’s resolutions? Hug more. Cause this weekend I had a slumber party/sleep over with some of my friends that never used to be huggers, and we were all on one huge air bed, six of us, sprawled on top of each other, heads on bellies, and it was the best thing ever.
Happy 2015.