O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
A Small Survey on T-Shirts
I've been thinking a lot about my dream of starting a t-shirt business. So I thought maybe a little survey might be in order.
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