Ecological succession is like our riverbank after the last bad flood—first the tough grasses come, then shrubs, then maybe mango trees if we’re lucky. They used to say the final forest, the climax, would stay forever-sahi hai? But now, nothing stays. One more big rain, one heatwave, and the pattern breaks. I see it from my balcony—even my strongest money plant, it climbs so steady, but a single harsh afternoon sun can make its leaves curl and start again.
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