A short story about nothing

There’s an art to achieve something, indeed anything, by doing absolutely nothing.

When I was fourteen years young, on a routine visit to my brother’s flat in Sweden, I spotted a whopping new canvas adorning the main wall of his living room. It was a raw, un-stretched brown canvas that had been painted off-white, retaining an irregular brown bordering edge – all prepared for the introduction of some flashy colour, or possibly, a female nude.

“Why have you hung an un-stretched, un-painted canvas on your wall?” I asked – thinking maybe it was just for storage purposes – the flat was very small.

“It’s finished. I decided to leave it as it is.” He remarked.

Having looked at it again, I saw exactly where he was coming from. It suited his minimalist interior style, it was different, and with sounding pretentious, it was interesting.

He had created something by doing nothing. Well, almost nothing. He just knew when the right time was to stop.