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Han Mo, known to many as Molly, spends her days in a rehearsal hall at the Chinese University of Hong Kong (Shenzhen). As a coach and piano teacher, she and her colleagues use two pianos to simulate a full symphonic orchestra for conducting students. It is a life defined by the rigorous architecture of classical music, yet her heart is often thousands of miles away, divided between the fractured landscapes of her past in Russia and the celestial silence of the stars.
Molly’s connection to Russia is profound; she moved there at age twelve and eventually earned a doctorate, coming to consider the language almost a second mother tongue. But the Russia she remembers is changing under the weight of conflict. She describes a reality where the cost of living has doubled, with metro fares and apartment rents skyrocketing. Beyond the financial strain, a digital isolation has taken hold. Major social platforms and video sites are gone, replaced by less effective local alternatives, forcing her to connect with friends via Zoom or face the silence of Moscow’s “digital dark age”.
For the musicians Molly knows, the world has become a complicated stage. She notes how legends like Gergiev and Matsuev have largely abandoned Western markets, while younger talents like Malofeev find themselves caught in the middle of a geopolitical tug-of-war. Others, like Pletnev, have made the difficult choice to leave the country entirely. To Molly, it is a reminder of history repeating itself, echoing the days when Rachmaninoff and Stravinsky sought refuge abroad. She observes that while music may be borderless, the musicians themselves are often weighted down by the “sin” of their nationality.
To find clarity, Molly looks upward. A self-described astronomy enthusiast, her morning ritual begins not with the daily headlines, but with the NASA website. She was deeply moved by recent human missions to orbit the moon, finding solace in the perspective of a female astronaut who looked back at the Earth from the “infinite darkness”. That image of a solitary planet hanging in the void led to a singular realization: “Planet Earth, you are a crew”.
In that cosmic view, Molly sees the ultimate symphony, a world where boundaries of race and nationality vanish. She questions why, if humans possess the capacity for peace and love, we do not choose it. As she closes her rehearsals, perhaps with the defiant chords of Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida” ringing in her mind, her message remains clear. Whether she is playing for a classroom in Shenzhen or tracking a satellite across the night sky, she is a member of that global crew, holding onto the hope that harmony can eventually transcend the noise of war.
This is a Chinese language programme with Chinese subtitles.Filmed in Shenzhen on April 16, 2026.
By Rudolph TangHan Mo, known to many as Molly, spends her days in a rehearsal hall at the Chinese University of Hong Kong (Shenzhen). As a coach and piano teacher, she and her colleagues use two pianos to simulate a full symphonic orchestra for conducting students. It is a life defined by the rigorous architecture of classical music, yet her heart is often thousands of miles away, divided between the fractured landscapes of her past in Russia and the celestial silence of the stars.
Molly’s connection to Russia is profound; she moved there at age twelve and eventually earned a doctorate, coming to consider the language almost a second mother tongue. But the Russia she remembers is changing under the weight of conflict. She describes a reality where the cost of living has doubled, with metro fares and apartment rents skyrocketing. Beyond the financial strain, a digital isolation has taken hold. Major social platforms and video sites are gone, replaced by less effective local alternatives, forcing her to connect with friends via Zoom or face the silence of Moscow’s “digital dark age”.
For the musicians Molly knows, the world has become a complicated stage. She notes how legends like Gergiev and Matsuev have largely abandoned Western markets, while younger talents like Malofeev find themselves caught in the middle of a geopolitical tug-of-war. Others, like Pletnev, have made the difficult choice to leave the country entirely. To Molly, it is a reminder of history repeating itself, echoing the days when Rachmaninoff and Stravinsky sought refuge abroad. She observes that while music may be borderless, the musicians themselves are often weighted down by the “sin” of their nationality.
To find clarity, Molly looks upward. A self-described astronomy enthusiast, her morning ritual begins not with the daily headlines, but with the NASA website. She was deeply moved by recent human missions to orbit the moon, finding solace in the perspective of a female astronaut who looked back at the Earth from the “infinite darkness”. That image of a solitary planet hanging in the void led to a singular realization: “Planet Earth, you are a crew”.
In that cosmic view, Molly sees the ultimate symphony, a world where boundaries of race and nationality vanish. She questions why, if humans possess the capacity for peace and love, we do not choose it. As she closes her rehearsals, perhaps with the defiant chords of Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida” ringing in her mind, her message remains clear. Whether she is playing for a classroom in Shenzhen or tracking a satellite across the night sky, she is a member of that global crew, holding onto the hope that harmony can eventually transcend the noise of war.
This is a Chinese language programme with Chinese subtitles.Filmed in Shenzhen on April 16, 2026.