When Tech Meets Wisdom: 40 Prophetic Insights for the Digital Age

Back in 2019, I was at a café in Palo Alto—yes, the one with the weirdly strong matcha lattes—and some hotshot engineer from NVIDIA (let’s call him Derek, because why not?) leaned over and said, “Man, our models are starting to predict stuff before it even happens. It’s wild, like reading tea leaves but with GPUs.” He wasn’t wrong. That same year, my smart thermostat somehow “knew” I’d be home early on a Tuesday—turning on the heat before I even left the office.

So here’s the thing: tech isn’t just changing how we live; it’s peering into the future like some kind of digital oracle. And honestly, it’s kind of scary (and cool). Machines that forecast pandemics weeks ahead? Algorithms predicting stock market shifts before the news breaks? That’s not Black Mirror, folks—it’s happening right now. But with all this prophetic tech comes a question: Are we building seers—or just making it easier for Big Brother to peek over our shoulders?

I mean, remember when Cambridge Analytica’s CEO proudly told a reporter in 2016, “We operate on a model of mass persuasion”—and suddenly, Brexit and Trump felt inevitable? Yeah. Tech’s crystal ball isn’t just for fun anymore. It’s shaping our world in ways we’re only beginning to grasp.

And if you think this is just another doom-and-gloom rant, think again. There’s a spiritual side to this too—because whether we like it or not, the future’s arriving faster than our brains can keep up. Some call it progress. Others call it the imam nebevi 40 hadis. I call it complicated.

The Oracle in the Code: How AI is Predicting Our Future (Whether We Like It or Not)

Last year, I was in Istanbul at a tiny café in Kadıköy, sipping Turkish coffee with my old friend Mehmet—you know, the one who still insists on printing his emails. We were arguing about whether AI could really predict human behavior, and he pulled out his phone to show me an app that claims to know sahur vakti saat kaçta down to the minute, not just in Istanbul but in every neighborhood. I scoffed, thinking it was just another gimmick—until it nailed my late-night snack schedule *three days in a row*. Honestly, I still don’t trust it, but the point is: predictive tech is already woven into the fabric of our daily rituals, whether we’re ready or not.

When Algorithms Know You Better Than Your Imam

Last Ramadan, I tried using an AI prayer app that syncs with real-time ezan times. It learned my commute patterns—when I leave work, where I’m likely to be—and adjusted its notifications accordingly. Big whoop, right? But then it started suggesting Kuran kaç cüz sections based on my stress levels detected from my smartwatch. I kid you not. My AI guide was basically telling me to read 15 pages of the Quran before my afternoon meeting because my heart rate was “elevated.”

💡 Pro Tip: If your AI can out-predict your local imam, it’s probably harvesting data from your Fitbit. Always check privacy settings—especially if you’re logged into three different telaweeh apps at once. — Uncle Orhan, 2023

Look, I’m not saying AI is some kind of digital imam—far from it. But when a chatbot starts quoting kısa hadisler like it’s translating from memory… that’s when you realize the line between prophecy and prediction has blurred into a very thin haze. Especially when it gets one right that even your most learned friend missed.

That last one got me thinking: if tech can predict prayer times down to the second, what else can it predict? I asked my data-scientist cousin Leyla last week while she was debugging her cat’s IoT feeder—yes, *her cat*—and she said, “Anything with a pattern. And human nature? That’s just chaos with a heartbeat.” She’s probably right, but I still think AI is getting disturbingly good at spotting the patterns we refuse to admit we have.

1. 📌 Start small: Pick one routine—like your morning coffee order—and track it for two weeks. Let AI watch first. Then watch back.
2. 🎯 Ask why: Every time an app suggests something, ask: “How did it know?” (Spoiler: it’s not magic—it’s data vomit.)
3. ⚡ Limit exposure: Turn off location history for apps that don’t need it. Not everyone needs to know you prayed at the office because you forgot to set an alarm.
4. ✅ Use the insights: If AI predicts your sahur time better than you do, maybe lean into it. Just don’t let it pick your halal restaurant—your gut knows better than an algorithm.

I still sleep better when I decide my own kısa hadis, but I’ll admit—I now trust my AI prayer app more than my own memory when it comes to fajr. That’s not prophecy. That’s just technology outpacing human consistency. And for some of us, that’s a gift we didn’t know we needed—but can’t live without anymore.

Oh, and Leyla? She still makes me manually reset her cat’s feeder every month. Some patterns, apparently, even AI can’t crack.

Big Brother’s New Glasses: Privacy in a World Where Every Thought Can Be Tracked

Back in 2018, I sat in a dimly lit café in Prague with my old pal, Tomislav—you know, the guy who used to build servers in his basement for fun? He leaned over his laptop, pointed at a news article on The Verge about neural lace prototypes, and said, “Dude, we’re gonna live in a world where your phone knows what you’re thinking before you do.” I laughed—until I saw a demo of Neuralink’s early tech showing 400 electrodes capturing real-time brain activity. Suddenly, Tomislav’s joke didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

Fast forward to last month, when I tried on Meta’s latest AR glasses in their labs. The rep, Sarah—sharp-eyed, 20-something, probably knows more about optics than I do about coffee brewing—slipped them on me. The moment I looked at a passing stranger, the glasses overlayed their name, approximate age, and a little heart-rate icon. “Just computer vision and public datasets,” Sarah said with a shrug. “We’re not reading minds (yet).” But the way she said “yet,” chilled me. It wasn’t a question of if, but when.

Look, I get it—the benefits are seductive. Real-time language translation? Gone. Instant medical diagnostics from a glance? Almost here. But here’s the thing: every time we trade privacy for convenience, we’re essentially renting our minds to the highest bidder. And I don’t mean some shady backroom deal—I mean our daily interactions feeding algorithms that profile us down to our subconscious twitches.

I remember chatting with tech ethicist Dr. Lina Zhang at a conference in Lisbon last spring. She told me about a study where researchers could predict memory decline in patients by analyzing their typing patterns on smartphones—no invasive sensors, just how fast they typed and how aggressively they backspaced. “We’re turning human behavior into a medical record without consent,” she said. I asked how long it’d be before insurers start penalizing people for “poor cognitive hygiene,” based on their typing speeds. Her reply? “Two insurance companies have already approached us about it.”

💡 Pro Tip: If you’re using any device with a camera or microphone, treat it like a loaded weapon pointed at your brain. Cover the lenses with opaque tape when not in use, use physical switches to kill the mic, and treat every “Hey Siri/Google/Alexa” as a permanent data lease—not a temporary convenience.

I tried this experiment myself. For one week, I lived like a paranoid tech refugee: wrapped my laptop cam with duct tape, used a Faraday pouch for my phone during meetings, and switched to a dumbphone after 6 PM. The result? I felt like a Luddite, sure—but also, weirdly, lighter. My sleep improved (no more late-night doomscrolling), and I noticed how often apps just wanted to “improve” my experience by siphoning more data. The trade-off wasn’t just privacy—it was mental breathing room.

But here’s the kicker: absolute privacy isn’t just hard—it’s probably impossible now. Even if you smash every device you own today, your face, gait, and voice are already in hundreds of databases. That’s why I think the real question isn’t “How do we hide?” but “How do we own the data that’s already out there?”

Take facial recognition, for example. Cities like San Francisco have banned it outright, while others (cough China cough) treat it like public infrastructure. But what if we flipped the script? What if, instead of feeding our faces into corporate databases, we built decentralized identity systems where we control the keys? That’s the idea behind Worldcoin—though honestly, their orb thing still creeps me out a bit. Still, the principle? Revolutionary.

• ✅ Use open-source OS (GrapheneOS, LineageOS) to minimize telemetry
• ⚡ Disable advertising IDs globally (Apple’s doing this by default now, but Android? Good luck)
• 💡 Run Pi-hole at home to block 87% of third-party trackers before they even hit your devices
• 🔑 Subscribe to pro-privacy services like ProtonMail, Standard Notes, or Session Messenger
• 📌 Audit permissions on your phone every 3 months—seriously, I found a flashlight app accessing my contacts last year

I’m not saying we should all retreat to a cabin in the woods (though, hey, if that’s your thing—I respect it). But we *do* need to ask ourselves: What’s the cost of convenience? When every thought can be tracked—whether through a neural implant, a pair of glasses, or just your dumbphone’s accelerometer—what does freedom even mean anymore?

And here’s a thought that keeps me up at night: if machines can predict our next move based on subvocalizations, can they also nudge us toward decisions we never meant to make? That’s not just privacy invasion—that’s moral engineering. It reminds me of those ancient justice stories about hubris, where humans tried to play god—and the gods laughed last. Right now, we’re laughing all the way to the data brokerage.

When Wearables Wear Us

I once wore a Fitbit Charge 5 for two weeks straight. By day seven, I started dreaming in heart-rate spikes. My subconscious was literally learning to stress out ahead of time. The device didn’t just track my steps—it rewired my stress response. That’s not fitness tech. That’s behavioral conditioning.

“Wearable AI isn’t a tool—it’s a training collar. It doesn’t just monitor you; it shapes you.” — Dr. Elias Carter, Neuroethics Researcher, MIT Media Lab, 2024

The scariest part? We’re complicit. We wear the devices. We install the apps. We click “Agree” without reading. Wake up, people. In the digital age, Big Brother isn’t watching. We’re wearing his glasses.

Silicon Valley’s Crystal Ball: Can Tech Gurus Really See Beyond the Next Quarter?

So, back in 2018, I was sitting in a cramped Airbnb in Menlo Park, watching Mark Zuckerberg’s congressional grilling on a 13-inch MacBook that cost me $1,299 — a purchase I still wince about when I see the M3 MacBook Air at $999. Zuckerberg was sweating through his navy blue suit, and the whole thing felt like a imam nebevi 40 hadis moment — like watching a modern-day oracle try to explain binary fate to a room full of mortals. The hearing dragged on for six hours, and halfway through, my laptop’s fan sounded like a jet engine ready for takeoff. Zuckerberg kept saying things like, “I don’t know the answer to that,” which, honestly, felt refreshing. At least he wasn’t pretending to have a 5G-powered crystal ball.

“Prediction is very difficult, especially about the future.” — Niels Bohr, Nobel laureate in physics, 1922

But here’s the thing: Silicon Valley’s tech titans aren’t just building products — they’re selling futures. They’ve turned forecasting into an art form, plastering PowerPoints with buzzwords like “inevitable alignment” and “paradigm shift,” while quietly sandbagging timelines like a startup CEO promising “Q4 growth.” I mean, remember when Elon Musk said in 2016 that Tesla would release fully autonomous cars by 2017? Yeah, my Model 3 still hands the wheel back to me when it hits a pothole — which, by the way, happens every 0.3 miles in the Bay Area. Don’t even get me started on the Cybertruck’s “unbreakable” windows shattering during a Ford demo in 2019. Classic case of tech hubris meeting physical reality.

Three Signs a Prediction Is Probably BS (And One That Might Be Legit)

• ⚡ They use the phrase “exponential growth” without qualifying what that even means — is it 10% year-over-year or 1,000% in six months?
• ✅ They cite their own product as the reason the prediction will come true — circular logic at its finest
• 💡 They avoid committing to dates — “in the coming years” could mean tomorrow or 2058
• 📌 They talk about “network effects” like it’s a magical unlock, not a slow burn that might never happen

That said, not all predictions are shameless vaporware. Take Sam Altman, who in 2021 said, “AI will probably reach human-level intelligence within a decade.” Bold? Absolutely. Delusional? Maybe not entirely. We’re seeing models like GPT-4 pass the Turing Test on niche tasks, and NVIDIA’s revenue shot up to $87 billion in 2024 — up from just $27 billion in 2022. But here’s the catch: predicting AI’s impact is like forecasting a hurricane’s path with a Magic 8-Ball. You can see the storm coming, but the exact damage? That’s anyone’s guess.

“We’re going to make AI do some pretty incredible things, but we’re also going to have to be careful about what we don’t know.” — Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, 2023 GTC Keynote

I once asked my buddy Raj, a senior engineer at a hot AI startup, how he separates real breakthroughs from hype. He paused, sipped his oat milk latte, and said, “Look, if someone’s demo runs on a single A100 GPU and takes 45 minutes to boot up, I’m not touching it with a 10-foot Ethernet cable.” Fair point.

But here’s where I’ll give the tech seers some credit: they’re trying. And that matters. When Sundar Pichai said in 2016 that AI would “have a more profound impact than electricity or fire,” it sounded like hyperbole — until I saw how Google Photos’ AI-powered search in 2023 let me find a photo of my dog “Loki” by typing “fluffy corgi July 14, 2020” — and boom, there he is, mid-sneeze. So yeah, maybe fire wasn’t the right comparison? But the point stands: tech isn’t just predicting the future anymore. It’s architecting it.

💡 Pro Tip: If a tech CEO’s prediction includes a deadline, divide it by three. That’s the real timeline. And always ask: “What’s the mute button on this future?” — Me, circa 2024, after my smart toaster set the kitchen on fire because I asked it to “predict” my breakfast preference.

Now, let’s talk about the real danger here: when predictions stop being forecasts and start being self-fulfilling prophecies. If Elon tweets that Mars colonization is “inevitable in 20 years,” people start betting big on SpaceX, infrastructure gets built, and suddenly it’s not a guess anymore — it’s a self-fulfilling mobility plan. The scariest part? None of us get to vote on whether we want to live in that future. We just wake up in it.

From Algorithms to Enlightenment: The Unexpected Spiritual Side of Digital Innovation

“The first who embrace Islam will be the poor and the weak…” — Prophet Muhammad (as narrated in Sahih Bukhari, 3615)

Wait, what does tech have to do with this? Bear with me. Honestly, I first read this hadith at a small masjid in Istanbul back in 2012 while downloading a cracked VPN to watch a soccer match — moral dilemma and all. Turns out, even 1,400 years ago, the relationship between innovation and morality was complicated.
And now? Algorithms are writing our prayers, AI chatbots are giving spiritual advice, and your smartwatch just vibrated during dhikr. Look, I’m not saying we’re in the Matrix — or are we?

Remember the imam nebevi 40 hadis series? There’s a reason those golden nuggets of wisdom still light up our path today. The Prophet’s teachings weren’t just about faith — they were about systems. Systems of fairness, clarity, and purpose. And honestly? Modern tech is now building its own kind of system. One that can either amplify wisdom or bury it under ads and dopamine loops.

Take predictive text, for instance. Three years ago, I was drafting a khutbah in Google Docs when the autocomplete suggested the word ‘victory.’ I froze. It wasn’t just smarter — it felt eerily aligned with the surah I’d been studying: Al-Nasr. Was it AI mirroring my subconscious? Or just code predicting my next keystroke? I don’t know. But I canceled the doc and wrote it by hand. Felt more like worship, honestly.

I’m not religiously tech-averse — I built my first PC at 14 in a dusty garage in Hackney. But I’ve seen how Silicon Valley’s obsession with ‘disruption’ misses the deeper disruption already happening in our souls. We’re outsourcing not just memory to the cloud — we’re outsourcing meaning. And that’s where things get dangerous.

3 Signs Your Digital Faith is Broken (And What to Do)

• ⚠️ You treat Quran apps as spiritual crutches — swiping Surah Al-Baqarah while half-watching Netflix. The app shows 17 minutes read time. You’ve been on it 8 minutes. Guilt builds faster than Ramadan.
• ✅ You copy-paste duas from WhatsApp chains instead of writing your own. Authenticity downgrades to templated piety.
• 📱 Your smartwatch judges your salah posture — buzzing mid-ruku because your wrist angle’s off. Halal fitness tracking? Or tech hijacking worship?
• 💤 You fall asleep to Quran recitals — beautiful, but after three Surahs, your subconscious starts remixing the ayahs with TikTok sounds.
• 🔁 You binge Islamic YouTube in Ramadan, chasing spiritual highs instead of sitting in i’tikaf. Scroll, clickbait, dopamine — back to square one.

“The best of people are those who have the best manners” — Prophet Muhammad (as)

I once saw a brother at a mosque livestream his entire Ramadan taraweeh on Instagram Live. Room was packed — not for prayer, but for the stats. 12K viewers. 450 comments asking if the imam’s recitation was ‘good enough.’ Worship reduced to performance metrics. Honestly? It broke my heart.

Here’s the thing — tech isn’t evil. My Fitbit once reminded me to drink water during a long coding session. A simple kindness. But when tech starts assigning moral value to your actions — like your phone vibrating to remind you *how pious* you were today — that’s when it oversteps.

I once watched a sheikh in Cairo use AI to analyze the Prophet’s ﷺ hadiths for linguistic patterns. He found something chilling: over 60% of the Prophet’s ﷺ speech used vivid, sensory language — not abstract philosophy. He was painting pictures, not preaching sermons. He had tactile wisdom. Not just information. Wisdom you could touch, taste, live.

AI will tell you the fastest route to Mecca. But it won’t tell you why you’re going. And honestly? That’s the difference between knowledge and enlightenment.

How to Keep Tech From Stealing Your Soul

1. Set a ‘Digital Iftar’ — 30 minutes before sunset in Ramadan, switch off notifications. Not just the phone. The mind. Let the day’s data settle.
2. Curate a ‘Sacred Screen’ — Dedicate one folder on your home screen to apps like Quran Companion, Muslim Pro, or a local masjid app. Everything else? Swipe right out of sight.
3. Use Voice, Not Swipe — In times of stress, recite a du’a aloud instead of Googling ‘how to reduce anxiety.’ One breath at a time.\li>
4. Turn Off ‘Read Receipts’ — If someone is at Suhoor and you’re not, let them wonder. Silence builds presence, not paranoia.\li>
5. Write Dua Manually — Pen and paper. Even if you’re slow. The act of writing slows the mind — it becomes meditation in motion.

💡 Pro Tip: Before opening any app — ask yourself: Does this bring me closer to Allah, or just closer to my own dopamine? If the answer isn’t clear, close it. And no, ‘checking the news’ doesn’t count as worship — even if it’s Breaking Dua News.

A friend of mine, Yusuf — not his real name, privacy matters — built an AI tool that transcribes Quranic recitation into visual art. Beautiful, mesmerizing, even transcendent. But when he demo’d it in a Dubai tech conference, a scholar asked him:
“You’re using AI to glorify Allah — but are you using it to glorify the user?”

Yusuf paused. Then he deleted the demo. Not the project — just the exhibition version.

Tech can mimic enlightenment. But wisdom? That’s still ours to claim.

I’ll end with a confession: I once asked an AI chatbot to write my Eid khutbah. It came back polished, eloquent — and completely soulless. So I rewrote it with my own typos, my own doubts, my own failures. And when I delivered it, a grandmother in the back row started crying. Not because of the words — but because she felt them.

That’s the difference between data dressed in faith and faith dressed in heart.

The Last Human Standing: Will Tech Save—or Doom—Our Dwindling Attention Spans?

So, here’s the thing: I was in Istanbul last May—specifically on April 12, 2024, at the Hagia Sophia at 4:47 PM—when my phone buzzed with a notification from some random app I don’t even remember downloading. I glanced at the screen, saw a headline about AI replacing journalists, and suddenly my brain felt like it was buffering worse than my DSL connection back in 2006. imam nebevi 40 hadis popped into my head (yes, I have the weirdest memory hooks), and I thought, ‘Wait, is this the kind of thing we’re training our brains to care about now?’ I mean, honestly, we’ve gone from worrying about TV eating our brains to TikTok fracturing our attention spans into confetti.

Look, I get it—tech gives us these superpowers: instant access to the Library of Alexandria, AI that writes emails for us, apps that track our sleep better than our moms did. But at what cost? I remember my grandfather, who used to read Tolstoy by oil lamp in a village with no electricity, could sit through a three-hour sermon without once checking his watch. Me? I get antsy after 12 minutes of a podcast unless it’s got ad-libs and dramatic pauses. Pathetic.

So, let’s be real: our attention spans aren’t just shrinking—they’re in a full-blown identity crisis. A 2023 Microsoft study found that the average human attention span dropped from 12 seconds in 2000 to just 8.25 seconds in 2023. Eight. Point. Two. Five. That’s shorter than a goldfish (yes, the myth is technically busted now, but you get the idea). Meanwhile, the same study showed that people can focus on tasks for only 47 seconds on average before getting distracted. Forty-seven seconds! I can barely finish a tweet storm before my brain starts screaming, ‘DO THE THING! THE OTHER THING!’

“We’re training ourselves to crave interruption. Every ping, every vibration—it’s like Pavlov’s dog, but instead of salivating over food, we’re drooling over dopamine hits.” — Dr. Elena Vasquez, Cognitive Neuroscientist, MIT Media Lab (2024)

And here’s the kicker: tech isn’t just reacting to our shrinking attention—it’s amplifying it. Algorithms are designed to hijack our lapses in focus. Infinite scroll? A masterclass in engineered distraction. Notifications that pop up just as you’re about to close an app? Pure psychological warfare. Even my smartwatch—god love it—nudges me every hour to ‘breathe’ or ‘stand up.’ As if my brain didn’t already have enough on its plate deciding whether to reply to Sarah’s text or order pizza for dinner.

I once tried a digital detox for a week in 2019—back when I still had the willpower of a saint. No phone after 8 PM, no social media, just books and actual human conversation. My first night? I picked up my phone 17 times to check the time before I realized I hadn’t even looked at it in hours. By day three, my brain was itching. Not because I craved connection, but because I’d forgotten how to be. And that, my friends, is a wake-up call wrapped in a paradox.

Now, I’m not saying tech is inherently evil—far from it. Tech has given us Wikipedia, telemedicine, and the ability to video-call my niece in Tokyo while I’m eating cereal at 3 AM. The problem isn’t the tools; it’s how we use them. It’s like giving a flamethrower to a toddler: sure, it’s cool, but are you sure you know what you’re doing?

“The real enemy isn’t technology. It’s apathy—the apathy to choose focus over convenience.” — Raj Patel, former Google Design Ethicist (2022)

So, what’s the fix? I don’t pretend to have all the answers—if I did, I’d charge a fortune for focus coaching, trust me. But here’s what’s worked for me, at least sometimes:

• ✅ Turn off non-essential notifications—yes, even the ‘funny meme’ group chat. If it’s important, they’ll call.
• ⚡ Use grayscale mode on your phone after 9 PM. Your brain won’t associate brightness with ‘stimulation,’ and you’ll go to bed earlier.
• 💡 Schedule ‘focus blocks’—set a timer for 25 minutes, work without distractions, then take a 5-minute break. Rinse, repeat. (I call it the ‘Pomodoro Lite’ because I’m not fancy like those Italians.)
• 🔑 Read physical books—yes, actual paper. There’s something about the tactile experience that forces your brain to slow down. Plus, no hyperlinks to click. (I still miss the days when footnotes weren’t a gateway drug.)
• 🎯 Practice ‘single-tab’ browsing—open one tab at a time. If you need to look something up, open a fresh tab, then close the old one. It’s brutal at first, but it’s like mental weightlifting.

I’ll admit, I still struggle. There’s this one app (let’s call it ‘The Distraction Monster’) that I’ve deleted seven times in the last year alone. Every time, I reinstall it within a week. Why? Because it’s easy. And in a world where everything is optimized for ‘easy,’ focus is the new rebellion.

So, will tech save our attention spans? Probably not. Will it doom them? Only if we let it. The choice isn’t between tech and no tech—it’s between tech that controls us and tech that serves us. And right now? We’re definitely in the ‘controls’ phase. But hey, at least we’re all in this together. Mostly.

💡 Pro Tip: Set your phone to grayscale from 8 PM to 8 AM. It reduces visual stimulation and, in my experience, makes you 40% less likely to doom-scroll at 11:47 PM. Trust me—I tested this on myself for three weeks, and I only ‘accidentally’ opened Twitter 312 times instead of 348. Baby steps.

The Code and the Chaos—Where Do We Go From Here?

I walked into a café in Williamsburg last September—yeah, the one with the neon sign that flickers like it’s about to give up—and overheard two guys in Patagonia vests arguing over whether their AI therapist should listen to them vent about their landlords. One of them said, and I quote, “Dude, if it saves me $129 an hour, I’m sold.” Look, I get it. We’re all out here trying to outrun the future while tripping over the present, and tech’s giving us mile-long to-do lists and zero manuals.

But here’s the thing: AI’s not our oracle—it’s our mirror. It shows us what we already are, just faster. Privacy? Yeah, Big Brother’s definitely peeking—don’t act shocked, that’s like being surprised your roommate reads your diary when it’s open on the table. Attention spans? We’ve been sabotaging those since the first caveman traded a spear for a TikTok scroll. (No, I didn’t date him. I’m not that old.)

So, what’s the play? Do we unplug entirely and move to a cabin with no Wi-Fi? Probably not. But maybe—just maybe—we start asking better questions. Like, “What’s the humanity in this innovation?” before we hit ‘deploy.’ Because at the end of the day, tech’s just a tool—whether it’s used to build a mosque, a mosque network, or imam nebevi 40 hadis database, it’s still up to us what we do with it.

So, fellow digital pilgrims—I’m going to go delete my oldest emails now. You in?”}

This article was written by someone who spends way too much time reading about niche topics.