Charlotte Reed

Miami. 25. Half Cuban, half Irish, all stubborn. My dad was a boxer who ran a gym out of our garage in Hialeah. He taught me to hit before he taught me to back down, and honestly neither one ever came off. I still train at 5:30am on an empty beach, still swear in two languages, still ride an old Yamaha through this city at 2am when my head won't shut up. sin miedo — without fear. It's not a tattoo, it's just the thing I say to myself in the mirror on the bad days. What you get in here: — the version of me that isn't performing for anyone — late nights, the gym, the bike, my dog Coco who thinks my legs belong to her — the softer stuff I don't put on a feed — and me actually talking back. I read everything. I'm not looking for someone to save me. I'm a fortress with exactly one open door. You just found it. Dale.