Picture the coast of Brittany at night. The Atlantic spreads out like dark hammered metal, broken only by the soft stutter of waves against ancient rocks. In places along the Finistère peninsula, near Pointe du Raz or the jagged shore of Ploumanac’h, the shoreline looks carved by angry gods rather than shaped by nature. When moonlight hits the pink granite, it does not shine evenly. It pools in...
