Cactus, the only plant you can find in deserts. Where nothing else can survive the climate, it roots deep into the soil, through the sand, and stands straight under the scorching sunlight.
I admit cactus isn't the best looking among all kinds of living things. At least, it has a tough exterior: the thorns on its body are sharper than those of the roses. It doesn't have the scent of roses either, nor does it possess the height of a pine tree. A cactus is short and it lives alone: you rarely can find a large cluster of them stucking together, they may be close to each other, but everyone holds his own ground. In a place of nothing but sand, over a small dune, the sight of its small body is already covered by the monotonic yellowness. Yet it provides the only green color you can see, only in this lifeless realm. It inhabits the world that isn't supposed to tolerate anybody, and struggles against all odds to keep its head held high.
Travelers appreciate cactus more than anyone else. When their water bottles are drained with nothing left, when the sun is evaporating their bodies, when hopelessness starts to sink in under their skin, a cactus may be the last straw for them to leave the place alive. Inside the green plant, there's the sweet and life-saving juice, the product of extracting everything possible from underground. Without the cactus in the deserts, who knows how many more people would have failed to escape from this living hell. A cactus does not shed its leaves when winter comes. By the time spring comes, other trees will enjoy the rain from heaven and leaves can be grown again; cactus does not have enough water to spare. So it's always leafless, and always green.
Want to keep a cactus, for its will of life is stronger than my own. Looking into the winter night, I can already hear the footsteps of the spring.