This one is the merging of 2 lives, which seems to have occurred due to the intervention.

My memory was as the child suffering from the Plague.

I remember being in a rough stone one-room house, me lying on rags in the most excruciating pain as the black buboes spread over my little body. Someone was saying...don’t burst the blisters because it would kill me. The sheer relief of each one bursting, oozing stinking blackened pus to trickle down my sides, felt so good...then I was gone.

This drawing shows me lying on a clean bed, being cared for by myself, bursting the blisters and draining them, applying a poultice to the raw flesh beneath. I lived, as did so many others due to this treatment of herbs.

There were doubts about how this was transmitted, but the solution of the elites, the rich and powerful, was to burn all the poorer buildings and people...and so…”London’s burning London’s burning, fetch the engines, fetch the engines. Fire, fire, fire fire, pour on water, pour on water……”