Box of watercolours

I don’t recall when this box of watercolours was given to me. I know that it travels with me since forever.
I open it from time to time just to see the small ink blocks wore down by vigorous brush rubbing. I also don’t have the first proofs of its usage – I imagine sheets of paper with an immense mix of drained overlapped colours, because that was what I enjoyed doing, or maybe hunt and war scenes with great explosions in orange and red. It was given to me by my mother, as a present from some trip, and surely checked at border control, as it was customary at the time that baggage was revolved to look for collectible insignificances.