This week I am on the trail of Julio Cortazar, and his love, Carol Dunlop — otherwise known as Lobo (the Wolf) and Osita (the little bear). Fortunately this quest has brought me to Mallorca - the majestic little island in Spain, full of cacti, mini dragons, dinosaur shaped mountains and roasted bunnies. 

It was here in the late 70’s and early 80’s that Lobo and Osita spent a few summers, one of them with Carol’s son Stephane, who made the trek all the way from Montreal to visit his mom. A pre-teen, he would see a side of the world the frigid Canadian landscape (both topographically, and sociologically) could never offer.

Their little house in Deia is on my target list. But so is writing. Writing with the ocean as my metronome. With the rocky shore my coffee break.

I am immersed in the book, all over again, in the documentary, in the film, more than was possible in the hustle and boom of Paris. Here, my office over looks the unseasonably grumpy sea — baby blue and turquoise. I take my breaks on the adobe patio on the roof, playing with the characters in my head as the children, 100 meters away, chase seagulls on the little strip of a tourist beach.

Last night we ate roasted lamb, drank Cava and played games until early in the morning.

Because the time here is limited, I am focused on one thing: finishing the script for the Cosmoroute movie. Which means there will be no Jane, no Meredith, no 3 Rooms in Paris as I chase down the beast of this novel and make sense of the Cosmoroute story. But rest assured, the two or three lovers, in the little chambre bonne in Batignolles, have a path set, which will soon unfold, as you will see, bit by bit. You just have to wait a bit longer. 

With love, from Mallorca,

Tobin