Nicholas Conrad is out of prison, out of money, and mostly out of his mind.
Footscray isn't where you go to rebuild a life. It's where you drink, fight, fall for the wrong people, and wander the streets at 2am looking for something you can't name.
Nick drifts through halfway houses, dead-end jobs, strange friendships, and a meditation group that might be a cult or might be salvation. Every step forward slides sideways. Every small win comes with a hangover.
The city keeps grinding. His head keeps buzzing. Something holy flickers at the edge of the mess.
A dark, filthy, tender black comedy about addicts, ghosts, irrational bread fear, porcelain horses, and the long walk back to yourself.
For readers of Irvine Welsh, Christos Tsiolkas, and Trent Dalton who like their fiction raw, funny, and slightly unhinged. A bruised love letter to failure, survival, and the strange beauty of falling apart.