I observe that you seem so overwhelmed by a mysterious feeling of evil to come, a presentiment of truth you insist, but you are not able to name it, a truth without a name. It is what a person have to do, but doesn’t enable to say. It is a need to escape the lure of danger. The need transforms into the pressing call of duty.

This reminds me what Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s words in Terre des Hommes. When the wild ducks or geese migrate in their season, a strange tide rises in the territories over which they sweep. As if magnetized by the great triangular flight, the barnyard fowl leap a foot or two into the air and try to fly. The call of the wild strikes them with the force of a harpoon and a vestige of savagery quickens their blood. All the ducks on the farm are transformed for an instant into migrant birds, and into those hard little heads, till now filled with humble images of pools and worms and barnyard, their swims a sense of continental expanse, of the breadth of seas and the salt taste of the ocean wind. The duck tottered to right and left in its wire enclosure, gripped by a sudden passion to perform the impossible and a sudden love whose object is a mystery.** 

** Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Terre Des Hommes(Gallimard Education, 1999). English translation is referred from Wind, Sand and Stars (Harcourt, 1992).