Transitions manifest before a turn. They are the in-between: the progression, the regression, the metamorphosis that transpire ahead of change. As intermissions, transitions are forgotten because they are so brief—neglected, because all eyes have shifted to what has transpired. As extended lulls, transitions offer space for rumination, guided by the transformation in sight. As indefinite pauses, they trap one in limbo, where the only constant is uncertainty. In literature, transitions signal change, bonding rows of text together as one. In science, they are the movement from one state of matter to another. In nature, transitions are the graduation from one stage in a life cycle to another; the cumulation of air, heat and moisture ahead of a storm; the moment before a child is born. Across the globe, diplomatic affiliations are shifting; governments are changing hands; energy systems are inching towards sustainability; alternate gender identities and sexualities are preparing for their time to shine. Meanwhile, the lives of millions of displaced individuals continue to be put on hold. In Hong Kong, a transition occurred when a fishing village morphed into a metropolis; when its sovereignty was transferred from Britain to China; when autonomy was brought into question. The transfer of sovereignty came with the promise to leave the city unchanged for five decades—but in a city of transition, any promise of changelessness could sound empty. For the rest of us, transitions simply mean the progression from one life stage to the next; waiting in one line after another, constantly transitioning, until we wander into the queue for a final resting place. We now invite you to capture the shift, the transformation, and experience the in-between—however fleeting, however endless, they may be.