Coucher du soleil

Bobby came round for lunch looking, with all respect, like a tramp.  It could have been the sunlight, but he objectively did. 
I'm used to shaving my legs which involves quick and sometimes careless up-strokes from my feet to my knees, but faces are different and Bob's has folds all over the place. Nico took over, but his bristles were like a metal brush which blunted the blade and made it useless.
I gave him a clay mask, washed it off with a Chinese-restaurant-style hot flannel and administered argan oil and some aftershave I found at the bottom of a cardboard box.
We sent him home a transformed man and headed up to the hills while the sun set and the temperature dropped.
We sat on the stone cross at Bastonis and I ruminated out loud on the turning of our planet.  Mu said I sounded like a twelve year old who has just realized the world is round and therefore rolls around.  
A bright star came out (Venus- the folding star?) .  Mu warned me that if I said it was the star of Bethlehem I'd sound even more like a twelve year old.  I wasn't actually going to because I've learnt to keep my mouth shut.