Hong Kong mourns the end of its way of life as China cracks down on dissent

Sandy Au, 28, stands inside one of the circular buildings at Lai Tak Tsuen, a public housing estate in Tai Hang, Hong Kong. The area has become popular with tourists and Instagrammers because of its iconic architecture.

A pro-Beijing doctor in his 60s stands in front of the Hong Kong Court of Final Appeal, formally the colonial Supreme Court. To him, the building represents the rule of law and the transfer of Hong Kong from the U.K. to China. He requested anonymity for fear of retaliation by pro-democracy activists. “If we did not have such bad riots, uncontrolled street scenes, then probably we wouldn’t have needed to be forced into this situation,” he said. “I don’t like the [national security] law, but there’s no option. We have to get peace, stability, and prosperity.”

Deena Ravi Thinakaran, a 24-year-old teacher of Indian heritage, sits on the tram in Sheung Wan, Hong Kong. “Taking the tram is really different compared to other places,” she said. “As I grow older I see so many changes in Hong Kong, and I just feel more connected [on the tram]. It’s really nostalgic.” The political turmoil has taken its toll: “I feel like when you have your first love and you have the first heartbreak, but it's on loop. Every time I think about it, my heart hurts.”

A 21-year-old student sits at Polytechnic University, where more than 1,000 people were arrested last November during violent clashes between police and protesters. She requested anonymity for fear of arrest. “Poly is home. Hong Kong is also home. We all fought hard for our home,” she said. “But in the end, we didn't get many results.”

Social worker Jeffrey Andrews, 35, sits at the Tsim Sha Tsui harborfront with the Hong Kong skyline behind him. “It’s one of the most beautiful skylines and it represents our city’s progress,” he said. “It represents how advanced we are as a society.” In July, he became the first ethnic minority to run for a lawmaker seat.