Someone once told me that the sound of gibbons is a sound designer’s wet dream — and they were right. But recording them? That was a journey. I had to wake at 4 a.m., when the lowlands were cloaked in deep quiet, and the only thing stirring was the soft crackle of termites in the dark. I slipped into a boat and drifted silently into the heart of the forest, then walked for an hour through hushed undergrowth, not speaking, barely breathing. And then — there they were. The gibbons' calls rose like voices from another world, rich and resonant, vibrating through the trees like an ancient language. Recorded in Cat Tien Park, Vietnam by Rafael Diogo.

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