#axlrose #gunsandroses Here I am. I needed some time to recover. Axl’s autograph is now framed and proudly displayed in my room. This video has gone around the world, but since I lose everything, I have to post it. First off, credit where credit’s due — the video was recorded by Debora, a saint of a woman, wife of Paolo, the guy with the tattoo that Axl had Vanessa take a picture of. In the video, I’m the one wearing giant sunglasses, serious as the Sphinx. My friends already teased me: “OMG Lena, you were like a statue!” 😆 Guys, that’s just how it hit me, what can I say? 🤷🏼‍♀️ So. Previously on Lena goes to the Guns concert: I went to the show. The night before, we were already scouting the luxury hotels in Florence. Then during the lineup, word spreads: “They’re at the St. Regis.” Perfect. I say, “Guys… I’m going tomorrow, I’ve gotta try. I can’t be in the same city and not go.” And surprise — nearly everyone from the group is in. Talk is cheap, but the day after a hard rock concert is when you see who’s real. You feel like you’ve been hit by a truck — twice. Next morning, with 7 minutes of sleep, I wake up thinking, “No one’s gonna show.” Then boom — Angelo texts, “See you at 9:30 on via such-and-such. We're late!” It’s 7:26 AM. A few fans at first. Most were still knocked out. But there’s Andrei, sitting outside the hotel, pale with sunglasses on: “They say Duff went out for a walk.” So the wait begins. Hours. In the heat. People trickle in — the diehards. The ones who’ve tried and failed before. I listen to their stories. Slowly, we bond. I’d already made a bilingual speech asking everyone not to rush them if they came out. Because if you spook them — poof, they’re gone. Some replied, “You Italians are the loud ones. We’d never.” Not the time to argue. It was time to be a team. And it worked. First out: Duff. He’s cautious, scans the scene. He knows how we roll. He’s stunned by the silence. Total mutiny vibe. He signs one autograph… skips ten 😱 We’re frozen. Maybe the marker threw him off? Who knows. He signs a few more and leaves. Now Axl. I swap markers fast — just in case. If he pulls a Duff, it’ll feel like getting kneed in the lungs. Then he appears. I mean... He’s beautiful. After all these years, he’s right there, two feet away. He’s actually handsome. I could’ve said anything. Here’s what I said to Axl Rose: 1. “Hi Axl.” 2. “Do you want this?” (re: the pen, which had already died, of course). 3. “Please, please, please.” (Meanwhile, my dignity was across the street smoking a cigarette.) He hesitated and I panicked he’d walk away. Then: “Thank you.” Bravo, Lena. A speech fit for the UN. Ever consider politics? 🙃 I think I didn’t totally lose it because it felt like he’d always been there. Not “OMG Axl Rose!!” — more like, “Oh hey, Axl.” Like when someone lags behind in a store and you turn, “Oh, there you are.” Weird. 🤷🏼‍♀️ While I was in front of him, I felt three things: 1. Deep respect. 2. Sweetness — I wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap. “Look at this man. He came out to see us. He didn’t have to.” 3. Gratitude — He signed everything. For everyone. See? Total dad. Of course, I didn’t call him “dad” — I’m not unhinged. How would he even know he’s been spiritually adopted by me? 🤣 Thanks for coming to Italy. 💖 - @lena.ione