Pedro Cattony, fotógrafo documental.

03/06/2026

Between ashes and silence, he lost his forest — and found a home.
Rescued in the Pantanal after devastating wildfires, this howler monkey survived.
Now, in the arms of the family who saved him, he is slowly learning the world again.
Nature doesn’t always heal on its own, sometimes, it needs people who care.

22/05/2026

Daybreak unfolds slowly in the Pantanal.
Light spreads across the flooded plains, dissolving the night’s shadows and gradually revealing a world bending in rainbow colors, stitching together distant margins.

21/05/2026

In the Pantanal, water does not cross the plain: it dreams it.
And in this slow dream, it invents provisional margins, traces paths that will no longer be there tomorrow, a world rewritten with each flood.

20/05/2026

The Serra do Amolar rises where the Pantanal seems to want to be nothing but water.
And it is precisely in this meeting—between stone and flood—that the territory gains form, boundary, and meaning.

Here, the landscape is not just scenery: it defines pathways, shelters ways of life, and imposes rhythms.
Where the land remains firm, a home can exist.
Where the water advances, one must know how to retreat, adapt, and begin again.

It was within this delicate balance that entire cultures learned to live by reading the ground, respecting the timing of the floods, and recognizing in nature not a resource, but a relationship.

Throughout the expedition in the northern stretch, one thing became clear:
territory, culture, and health are not separate dimensions.

One Health begins here—in the integrity of the environment, in the continuity of ways of life, and in the possibility of remaining.

When the landform changes, everything changes with it.
And to understand the Serra do Amolar is also to understand what is at stake when this territory transforms.

01/05/2026

We laid our gaze on the sky, and little by little, it answered back.
Constellations, silences, impossible distances, and a feeling hard to explain.

At some point, the thought surfaced. Brazil, too, was once drawn this way, looking upward. The stars on our flag hold the sky of the morning of November 15, 1889, the day of the Proclamation of the Republic. A moment when the country inscribed itself while looking into the infinite.

Today, we hardly look anymore.

City lights keep erasing what should never be erased.
And it’s not only the stars that disappear. It’s our relationship with them.

There, far from excess, the sky fits inside us again.
And you start to realize how rare that has become.

Maybe preserving the sky isn’t only about science or landscape.
Maybe it’s about not forgetting how to look up.

01/05/2026

29/04/2026

Above, a sky full of stars: clear, close, almost within reach.
In Serra da Canastra, MG, you come to understand: the dark doesn’t hide, it reveals.