Crushing the Rebellion is a dark enterprise but just as much exhausting I suspect. Incompetent generals, poor throne-room lighting and regular humiliation at the hands of heroes with names like “Luke” and “Han.” Come on. Even a Sith Lord needs to take five. On this occasion, it’s via Maritime serenity along the Nova Scotian coastline. An open sea. An endless sky. What better way to mitigate the ulcer of the Rebel yell than to stand before forces greater than oneself? Natural forces, that don’t give a damn which way your cloak flies. He seemed to enjoy it, wandering through beach grass, sucking salted air through his breath holes, even collecting tide-rounded stones for a decorative mason jar. A therapeutic memento for more trying days ahead? I didn’t ask.