If the most glorious moment of freelance work came that June morning when I sat on the balcony, summer breeze in my hair and sun on my rosy cheeks, barefoot and happy, gloating over all the poor bastards who have to work in offices and factories and shops...
...then the hour of the wolf arrived a pitch-black night in November when I struggled through an endless project at four in the morning, aching with cold and lack of sleep, anxiously doubting myself and knowing that anxiety would still be there in the morning, as it had for weeks.
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