ABSTRACT
Four thousand years ago a man walked barefoot across the newly plastered floor of a curious building on a small island, close to the placid waters of an enclosed and distant sea.1 What manner of man he was we have no way of knowing, except, a little absurdly, that his feet were remarkably large; we know, too, that he was not alone, for he was one of several to walk over the plaster laid down on the floor, and that one of his companions was a dog. Whether he was a labourer engaged on the construction of the building (though surely a singularly careless one), or a stranger who did not know of the work which was in progress so close to the whispering sea and, perhaps at night and in the darkness, stumbled across the still damp surface, are now beyond speculation.
