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After Asr, Amina sat in the garden. She leaned close to the grass, her nose almost touching the clover. A tiny beetle zigzagged through the stems. Its legs were thin as threads, moving exactly where Allah guided them. She held her breath and listened carefully. But she heard nothing. To her, the beetle was silent. She leaned closer. She listened harder. Still nothing. Amina frowned. She looked at the tiny beetle again - so small, so carefully made. Allah made it. But... she didn't know much about Allah.
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