Along the Tel Aviv coastline, where the Yarkon River touches the edge of the city, the Reading Power Station stands like a monument of function.
At night, it becomes something else entirely.
A sculpture of light, symmetry, and reflection.

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I photographed it on a still night.
No traffic.
No wind.
Only the quiet hum of machinery in the distance.
The lights along the edge of the station created long starbursts across the frame.
They stretched across the water like electric echoes.

Power stations are not usually places we stop to admire.
But something about Reading invites you to look again.
The geometry of the architecture and the mirror-like water below make it feel oddly timeless.

As the exposure rolled on, the reflections grew sharper.
You start to notice things.
The gentle dip in the sand.
The soft trail of light from warning beacons.
The faint stars overhead.
It is not the kind of place you expect to feel calm.
But it happened.

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I also shot a version in near black and white.
I left only the red from the safety lights.
Stripped of color, the station feels colder.
Like a relic from a story we have not finished telling.

The smokestack dominates the sky.
But it is not aggressive.
Instead, it just stands.
Quiet.
Tall.
Watching.

Urban photography is not always about people.
Sometimes it is about how cities breathe when no one is looking.

Reading has seen decades of change.
It lit up Tel Aviv when the skyline was still low.
Now it powers the city as towers rise around it.
The Yarkon slowly makes its way to the sea.

This shoot was part of a broader series documenting the edge zones.
Where concrete meets coast.
Where light meets silence.
Each frame is a moment of stillness between movement.

More from this set will follow.

Amir
Photographer, Builder, Dreamer
amir2000.nl