Sundays are for sitting by a window in your pants eating cold pasta, as a game of football meanders through its grassy paces on a screen not too far away. Light curtains drawn in an attempt to eliminate any chance for people in the street below to catch a glimpse of your boxers, time slows to a crawl. You're never not moving, but at least in this moment you're being afforded that chance to move slowly. Life never stops, but it does at least occasionally allow the odd evening in cruise control...

Read the original article