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Thinking about being stranded on a deserted island conjures up images of solitude, tranquility, and beauty, as well as an opportunity to relax and swim daily. Further, I need not hear the sound of ringing telephones or weed around cactus plants with my bare hands. The best part of daydreaming about life on the island is that I can dictate the terms of my isolation, for example, no pollution, no sharks, plenty to eat, comfortable shelter, and a horse to ride. One other condition is necessary: I can be rescued after three weeks—sooner if my kids have a scheduled soccer game.
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1985
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