Brittle Sounds

If you’ve read this piece already, you know it’s quiet. Carefully unraveled. Not a declaration, but a remembering. Earlier, I recorded this podcast version of Vulnerability Is My Superpower — giving voice to the pauses, the cracks, and the quiet strength in the becoming. If you're someone who finds meaning in the spoken word—or if you just want to hear the rhythm of how it was meant to be felt—thi...

I've lived in a condo in downtown St. Pete for the past three years. There’s limited street parking for residents, and most spots are a few blocks away. Even now, I sometimes forget where I parked. And since I mostly walk everywhere, a couple of days might pass before I need the car again. It used to bother me, not knowing exactly where it was. Now I find it almost funny. That’s where this story b...

Love isn’t measured by how it feels when everything’s easy—it’s measured by how it holds when things get hard. Over time, I’ve come to believe that real strength in a relationship doesn’t always look like having the answers. Sometimes, it looks like staying present. Like choosing softness when it would be easier to shut down. Like returning to each other, even when things feel fragile. These aren’...

 ‘ Folded Small’ is a story about presence. The kind that doesn't demand, doesn't rescue, but simply stays. Set in the hush of an afterschool classroom, it traces the quiet connection between a teacher and a boy who's learning how to take up space again. No declarations. No sudden breakthroughs. Just the slow, deliberate turning of someone back toward the light. It's a story about what changes, wh...

Welcome to the first in a new series I’m calling Flashback Friday —a space to revisit past work that still echoes forward. Some pieces marked a shift in perspective. Others helped me name something I hadn’t been ready to before. All of them shaped the writer—and the person—I’ve become. Each Friday, I’ll bring back an older essay or poem, add context around when and why it was written, and reflect...

A narrated version of my essay, The Club I Thought I’d Joined . It’s a reflection on what it meant—for me—to become American. The belief I carried in the story of this country. The slow realization that the story was more fragile—and more fractured—than I’d imagined. And the choice to stay, not because of the myth, but in spite of it. It’s about belonging, disillusionment, and the quiet responsibi...

A narrated version of my essay, “The Quiet Work of Love.” It’s a reflection on what love really looks like—when it’s not performative or perfect, but honest, imperfect, and quietly persistent. You can read the full text here: https://www.brittleviews.com/p/the-quiet-work-of-love This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visi...

This poem is my reflection on a crazy week in American life, where the Republican Administration’s tariff policy has pushed stocks down into bear market territory (the S&P 500 is down 14%, the Dow is down 12%, and the Nasdaq is down nearly 16%) and over 3.5 million people joined forces in over 1300 #HandsOff protests on Saturday, all across the country. Reflecting over the weekend, I feel that it...

Yesterday, I stood among thousands coming together to fill every key downtown intersection in St. Petersburg’s Hands Off protest—a gathering not of spectacle, but of presence. It wasn’t rage that stayed with me afterward, but something quieter. Something deeper. What I’m sharing today is a reflection that grew out of that experience. It’s not commentary—it’s what remained in my chest after the sig...