Life In Between

The wall I sat on all afternoon

Back in Mexico City in June, I found an old stone wall in a garden, sat down on it, and let the whole afternoon happen around me.

By Daria Solovey

October 15, 2026 · Mexico City

travel journal
Daria Solovey
Mexico City
CDMX
slow travel

Daria Solovey in a black bodysuit sitting on an old stone wall in a garden, laughing. — The wall, and the reason I stayed.

When I came back to Mexico City in June, I already knew the rule. Don't make a list. The city will ignore it anyway.

I wrote about that first visit in The city that slowed me down. This is a smaller story. It is about one wall.

How it started, in April

The first time, in April, I went out one night in a floral dress with no plan except dinner. Dinner became a long walk, the walk became another table outside, and somewhere around midnight I realized I hadn't checked my phone in hours. That almost never happens to me.

Daria Solovey in a floral dress at night, warm lights blurred behind her, looking to the side.

A few nights later I wore my glasses and a leather jacket and felt like a girl in an old film. I still think it's one of the most honest pictures of me.

Black-and-white photo of Daria Solovey in thick black glasses and a leather jacket, adjusting the frames with one hand.

But in June I wanted less

Less walking, fewer places, more staying. On the first day back I dressed up anyway, a blazer, a white ribbon, red lipstick, because sometimes getting dressed is the whole event. I went to a garden I'd passed in April and never entered.

Daria Solovey in a plaid blazer and white top with a ribbon in her hair and red lipstick, looking down, trees behind her.

The next morning was grey and I borrowed a leather jacket that was much too big for me. It smelled like someone else's cigarettes and rain. I wore it all day.

Close portrait of Daria Solovey in a black leather jacket, head tilted, looking down past the camera.

Therefore, the wall

The afternoon after, the sun came back, and I went back to the garden in a plain black bodysuit. Near the back there is a long stone wall, old and cracked, covered in patches of moss and peeling paint, and warm from the sun. I sat down on it. I meant to stay ten minutes.

Daria Solovey sitting on a stone wall with her bare feet in the grass, one hand in her hair.

By three o'clock my shoes were off. A gardener went by twice with a wheelbarrow and nodded at me both times as if I were part of the garden. A dog came and lay in the shade under my feet and left without saying goodbye. A woman read a whole book on the bench across from me. I know because I watched her close it.

Daria Solovey sitting on a sunny stone wall, arms folded over her knee, laughing with her eyes closed.

When the shade reached the wall, I moved down to the end where the sun still was, like a cat. I didn't read. I didn't post anything. I mostly listened: the birds, the traffic far away, someone practicing trumpet very badly somewhere behind the trees.

Daria Solovey sitting on the end of a stone wall in the late afternoon shade, hands on the stone, looking at the camera.

I've spent a lot of this year moving, chasing a sunset or waiting for the weather. That afternoon I didn't chase anything. If you're ever in Mexico City and someone asks what you did today, I hope you can answer the way I did that night: I sat on a wall. It was perfect.