Temptation

Gave in to.

Hard not to.
I can totally understand the urge of the owner of this size 7 shoe who felt compelled to leave his/her footprint in this lovingly levelled and smoothed slab of fresh concrete, all these years ago.
He/she may be dead by now, but his moronic act lives on (I am dropping the "/her" bit from now on, I am convinced somehow that the perpetrator belongs to the male gender).
Who am I anyway to call the gesture moronic? What we have here is an irrepressible desire to leave a trace, an impulsive attempt at immortality (well, that's a bit far fetched, an attempt at living as long as a concrete slab, as opposed to the limitations of one's rapidly perishable flesh and bone...)
The poor guy who has been levelling and smoothing this piece of pavement with all his love may not be aware that the fecken idiot who ruined the freshly poured concrete gave in to the same primal instinct that led this man to leave his famous mark.
The prehistoric artist was a tagger with no can of spray paint.
The hairy hunters from that famous cave in Lascaut most certainly wore hoodies and loitered outside the local supermarket.