Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE The Bricklayer’s Son THERE WAS NO prophecy in his birth. No star in the sky, no divine bloodline. Just a boy born in Athens around 470 BCE. A city not yet an empire, not yet a graveyard. His father was a stonemason named Sophroniscus. His mother, Phaenarete, a midwife. One shaped bodies from stone, the other delivered souls into the world. It’s almost too poetic, and yet, it’s real. That’s the origin of Socrates: not myth, not nobility, but sweat. Dirt under the fingernails. Hammer on rock. He didn’t come from philosophers. He came from people who built things. Who knew the weight of labor. Who didn’t pretend to be more than human. And that might be the most important thing...