Dasher has been attending pro-democracy rallies with his classmates outside government headquarters, tantalised by the glimmer of opportunity for real change, however faint.

"We want our Hong Kong to have a real chief executive, to do something for us and not just listen to the [Chinese] central government," Dasher says.

His father, a single parent who has driven trucks for a living for his whole adult life, objects to him going, and an impassioned debate ensues.

"I worry about his safety," says the stocky 60-year-old, who only wants to be known as Mr Mak. "I don't have any opinion; the chief executive has nothing to do with me. I just think about making enough money, paying for our food and bills, and just try to live comfortably."

This generational divide has been evident throughout the pro-democracy protests that have swept Hong Kong, often driving a wedge between young and old.

The demonstrations stem from what protesters see as a betrayal of a promise from Beijing that Hong Kong would be able to directly elect its own leader for the first time in 2017. While there will be an unprecedented direct vote, China said on August 31 that candidates would be vetted by a nomination committee stacked with pro-Beijing loyalists, effectively ruling out any dissenting voices, and tipping the city into what protesters have described as an "era of civil disobedience".

The young adults and teenagers who form the core of Hong Kong's protests aspire for their city to become a Western-style democracy where the public has a right to influence government policies.

Many a generation older feel content to have clambered out of poverty and value stability over all else. And while not necessarily disagreeing with the idealism of the younger generation, they see no value in upsetting the status quo by confronting decision-makers in Beijing.

"As long as they have a job and enjoy life, they don't mind about democracy," says Dorothy Lui, a 22-year-old public health student, whose uncle is a member of a pro-Beijing group that has led counter-demonstrations against student movements. "They have had to work very hard to get to the position they are in now."

A poll conducted by the Chinese University of Hong Kong last month showed three-quarters of people age 15 to 24 opposed the Chinese plan, compared with just less than half of people aged from 40 to 59.

The poll also found that the city's most prominent pro-democracy group, the civil disobedience movement Occupy Central, had considerably greater support among the young.

It also outlines a very real problem for Beijing. Seventeen years after the handover from British rule, young Hong Kongers feel more dissociated from the mainland than their parents. The sweeping protests have been as much about hanging on to Hong Kong's unique identity amid fears of greater Chinese control as it has been about the lofty goal of achieving genuine universal suffrage.

Mr Mak and his son live in the gritty, densely-populated district of Sham Shui Po, an area home to many low-income households, and notorious for harbouring clusters of apartments with abject living conditions.

As a man in his twenties, Lam Ip-sang used to navigate the world's seas with a commercial shipping company, sailing to as diverse locations as the United States, South Africa and Saudi Arabia. But now 58, he is unemployed, and on the fringes of homelessness. Because of his age, and the fact that he has had a stint in jail, he is finding it hard to find a job to get back on his feet.

Lam lives in what is known locally as a "cubicle" in a sub-divided flat in Sham Shui Po. The flat, the size of a snug one-bedroom inner-city apartment in Melbourne or Sydney, has been divided into seven living areas, each about two by two metres. Eight people share one kitchen and one toilet. Lam's home is infested with bed bugs, has poor ventilation and is prone to frequent power outages. But with a 10-year waiting list for singles waiting for government-subsidised public housing, it's the best  Lam can afford. "It's really hard to accept," he says.

Ma Cuijin, a 41-year-old restaurant cashier, lets out a shriek and stops dead in her tracks as a large rat scurries out in front of her in the corridor outside her apartment. A divorcee, Ma followed her husband to Hong Kong from her native Guangxi on the mainland, and is only staying on to be closer to her 10-year-old daughter. Ma's sub-divided flat is about four by two metres.

China's rise has proven immensely profitable for Hong Kong's elite. But the wealth has not been shared. Hong Kong's official income inequality measures among the highest in the world for a developed economy.

Real wages (after taking into account the effects of inflation) have risen less than 3 per cent in the past decade. House prices have more than tripled in that same time.

Critics of chief executive Leung Chun-ying say that under his stewardship, the city's tycoons have increased their dominance,  often to the detriment of the broader public,  across key industries, and especially in real estate.

With land prices effectively set by the government, which controls the supply, prices have soared to levels that prohibit all but the wealthiest developers from bidding on prime plots.

The different buildings that Ma, Lam and the Maks live in are being acquired by developers looking to knock them down and build luxury apartments. As renters they have little avenue for compensation, and they say they are struggling to find alternative accommodation within their limited budgets.

Human rights advocacy group Society for Community Organisation estimates there are at least 200,000 in this city of 7 million living in similarly inadequate conditions due to a shortage of low-cost housing.

It is the stress of living paycheck to paycheck that has fuelled much of the grassroots opposition to the Occupy protests. Residents fear that  crippling  the city's streets could have a lasting impact on the economy.

"These students they just graduated, they haven't found jobs, they can stay here [protesting] forever," says one man, a waiter in his 40s. "If we get two days less pay, we can't pay rent."

But Ma says she has been attending the protests to lend her support.

"As a mainland Chinese immigrant I don't want there to be chaos or for Hong Kong to split [from China]," she says. "But if you do nothing the freedoms people have here will disappear."