Fellipe Brito

Writing

Bible. Music. Tech. Golf. Tuesday Notes weekly.

A note before you read.

I write like someone who walked into the church machinery, saw it up close, and walked back out — refusing to walk back in on the old terms. Not bitter. Not done. Stubbornly faithful.

I think by writing letters. To my anxiety. To my church. To my 20-year-old self. Sometimes a letter is the only honest form.

I keep refusing the binaries. I choose the way. I don't know if I'll ever fit on a Church again. I'm OK with that.

Questions I keep coming back to:

Underneath everything: an expat's loneliness. I left a small fishing village in southern Brazil at 20. I've ended a lot of worlds since. Some never quite end.

These are 15 years of writing. Some of it is who I was. Some is who I'm becoming. Read accordingly.

If you are here, start with these.

Seven essays, hand-picked. The shortest path to the voice underneath.

Golf

We Never Lose

A solo afternoon at the Masters becomes a meditation on collective belonging — and a 1995 Flamengo loss with my father.

Tech

AI :: Where I'm Drawing the Line

Why I keep humans in the room even when an agent is cheaper.

Free Thought

A Conversation With My Anxiety

A letter from anxiety. My reply. From my father’s fishing boats to AI doomscrolling.

Golf

Breaking 90, and the Illusion of Arrival

A tournament round on my home course doubles as a parable on goalposts that keep moving.

Bible

Find the David Within You

A keyboard meltdown in a Hollywood church. The Pentecostal night that followed.

Free Thought

Thanksgiving

Friends of mine keep a leafless tree of gratitude in their living room. Abraham built altars for the same reason.

Bible

The Light the Darkness Cannot Understand

Gospel of John meets Tolkien. Why Sauron couldn’t imagine the Hobbit destroying the Ring.

All writing

112 essays. Most recent first.