博客來In the violent, beautiful heart of the city, Kryzhova wakes with blood in his mouth and no name for the pain inside him. Surveillance systems blink. Birds circle in cloudy skies. Wind cuts through bone. Imported guns are sold. And somewhere behind it all, something watches with familiar eyes. As Kryzhova searches for his lost memory in a world allergic to grief, the inexpressible piercing inside his head doesn’t cease. Haunted by excruciating static errors, the everlasting image of someone with wings who once took him to heaven and back is found under his skin, around his metal skeleton, as he aches beneath a wounded memory.
White Headache is a bleak requiem for a man unravelling inside a digital ghostscape, where loss howls through broken glass towers, manhood bleeds into river water, and the only remembrance left is found in the scars the body won’t let him forget.
