A digital recreation of an article published in Click Magazine Vol2 No1 1964
The soft whispering of palm trees … the lulling sound of gentle surf kissing white beach … the warm, zephyr-like tropical air against naked skin … strange and colourful birds on the wing calling for their mates … the intimate solitude of the deep-shadowed 
jungle … What man ever could dream beyond such rapture – beyond the lazy, beckoning silence of a sultry siren’s secluded pagan isle?
But Cathy Crowfoot hasn’t found it necessary to travel half-way across the earth to find her private island. A working girl, she’s unable to leave her job and home … so contentedly she finds rapturous seclusion in her own backyard, where she lets the warm sun kiss her at will.
The background of Cathy’s home is not without the feeling of an island removed hundreds of miles away … and she hears the palm trees whispering, and the sound of the surf nearby. Cathy returns tomorrow to her job as a receptionist but always, she knows, her pagan isle awaits.
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