Rewatching Goblin and thinking about how the death of a centuries-old god lies in the hands of a small, unlucky girl.
How he looks at her with age old eyes that hint at I-have-seen-it-all-nothing-can-surprise-me and yet we see him surprised and flustered by her. We see him at her mercy. She is the love of his life. She is his life and death. The irony in the fact that she lives because he saved her and her mother but he has to die at her hands. His strength in being able to carry that. She is so so young, he is so old. She has poisonous relatives who wish her ill. He makes it rain when he is sad. He has seen the entire world and then some. She is laughably young and lost. And yet. Somehow. They manage to save each other. No matter how briefly.
This young misery-befallen, persevering, surprising girl. With an uncertain future. With no where to go. This old lonely guardian god who keeps serving his punishment. And both of them living, in spite of it all. And both of them of them, finding each other, precisely because of it all.
