This piece was based on the following text:

There’s a strange little man who used to live in my neighborhood. He wore the same fur coat everyday, even if it wasn’t cold out. This coat was unlike any I’d ever seen before. It had the purest note of titanium white to it, one that seemed unchanged by the weather or light of day. Its texture seemed to ooze down the man’s silhouette like a series of waves that disappeared at his tails only to reassemble at the top once more. 
Sometimes it was hard to believe the coat was wrapping anything at all, its color, or lack thereof, immune to the folds of the body it was carrying. From blocks away, he seemed like a flapping sheet of paper rolling in the wind, suspended in a two dimensional world. Most days he didn’t seem like an entity at all, just a flat shape gliding along the walls of downtown Manhattan. 
And again, his coat wasn’t just your average mink or sable, it seemed to cloak his entire being, rendering him a ghost of sorts who meandered through New York’s inner purgatory. 
I tried to follow him a couple times, but after he turned a corner or two, I’d lose him in the hordes of concrete apartment buildings. After a few more blocks, I would turn back and go home.