The view out of a Hong Kong apartment window reveals a typical sight: a flight of steps and one of those mini-recreation areas that alleviate the pressures of overcrowding. And found within it, a motionless figure in the typical meditative pose of a supporter of the Falun Gong.
A few passersby on the steps pause for a curious look and then carry on. No plain-clothes police rush up and beat the practitioner or drag him off to a police van. This is Hong Kong, not Beijing, after all.
On Friday last week, the second anniversary of the mainland ban on the Falun Gong as an "evil cult", some 160 followers gathered outside the office of Hong Kong's chief executive, Tung Chee-hwa, to mark the occasion. They were left alone, too.
It was a similar demonstration, though on a much larger scale, in Beijing in 1999, outside the office of China's chief executive, President Jiang Zemin, that led to the original ban. Mr Jiang was both incensed by the group's audacity and alarmed by the extensive organisation that the protest revealed.
Beijing (perhaps one should simply say Mr Jiang) continues to be obsessed by the alleged threat posed by the Falun Gong, although it has never convincingly explained what it is that threat represents.
To mark the anniversary of the ban (though without actually mentioning the date) the Chinese press published a lurid tale of a body flung into a river by supporters of the "evil cult". It was the corpse of a practitioner who had allegedly refused to be treated for her illness, believing she would be saved by the teachings of the Master, Li Hongzhi (now in self-imposed exile in the US).
Meanwhile, the Falun Gong publicity network abroad - and in Hong Kong - published more accusations against the Chinese police of deliberately torturing and raping female practitioners in custody.
For the Falun Gong to survive so visibly in Hong Kong is an encouraging sign that, in spite of numerous difficulties, the territory still preserves a good measure of the autonomy guaranteed to it.
Falun Gong spokesman Kan Hung-cheung claimed last week that numbers of the local branch have risen to about 500. Mr Tung has previously caused concern by labelling the sect - in Beijing's language - as "no doubt an evil cult" and vowing to step up surveillance.
The Hong Kong Journalists' Association warned that a dangerous precedent would be set if the government took action against the group because it was the target of a mainland political campaign. Yet for the moment it seems that Mr Tung and his senior colleagues are performing the sort of balancing act to which provincial administrations on the mainland also resort when they want to keep the central government happy.
The trick is to mouth the right phrases, of which senior cadres in Beijing will take approving note, but to avoid taking definitive action (in this case, by resorting to a ban).
The Hong Kong administration is also well aware that a ban would attract immense negative publicity abroad. As the New York Times correspondent argued in reporting the July 23 demonstration, the price of a ban would be "worldwide opprobrium, and ruination for Hong Kong's reputation as an attractive place to do business".
Last week saw another move by Mr Tung's government to avoid such opprobrium, when the secretary of security, Regina Ip, announced that it would not ask Beijing to reverse (technically to "re-interpret") an important decision in Hong Kong's own court of final appeal (CFA).
The decision allows all Chinese children who are born in Hong Kong, even though their parents are only visiting there, the "right of abode" and applies to about 2,200 children.
Last year, after the CFA had ruled in favour of a vastly larger number of children (those born on the mainland to a parent who has the right of abode in Hong Kong), the court was forced to a humiliating climbdown after the relevant provision of the basic law was "re-interpreted" in Beijing.
It was easier for Ms Ip to adopt a hands-off attitude this time. Not only are the numbers involved much smaller, but the CFA decided another appeal in this area (regarding the right of abode of children adopted from the mainland) in the government's favour.
A statement from Beijing - which Ms Ip said she would "study carefully" suggests the matter is still not closed. A spokesman for the standing committee of the National People's Congress (NPC), which delivered last year's "re-interpretation", said it was "deeply concerned" by the CFA's decision on visitors' births.
As Hong Kong politician Margaret Ng commented: ". . . people will wonder if this [the NPC statement] is a prelude to something more serious."
The question of Hong Kong's autonomy also came up recently in the controversy over a new bill to define the circumstances under which elections for a new chief executive can be held. Clumsy handling of the wording by the government raised suspicions, still not entirely allayed after the bill had been amended, that it might allow Beijing legal room to revoke the chief executive's appointment.
At least Mr Tung and his colleagues appear more aware now that they must tread carefully. Whether they continue to do so will depend not only on their own resolve but on Beijing's restraint.