Kapi's memory is a manager, not a store. A kind is defined by how a memory is born, how it is kept and how it leaves, never by its topic. A fact is superseded, never edited. An episode retires by distance and wakes when named. A rule you gave never fades. An open item lapses with its reason. A procedure is performed, not summarised. No kind borrows another's verbs, because summarising a procedure or fading a rule is a category error, and a single-verb system is forced into exactly those errors.
The shelves follow a person, not a database. Eight of them, separated by tense: a memory's relation to time. Topic is never a shelf.
Forgetting is a feature. Lossy, constantly overwritten and always current beats complete and stale. There are six words for gone, with one meaning each, and only the person does the last.
dormantset aside for disuse; it wakes on recall
retiredno longer live, kept for the record
supersededreplaced by a later memory that points at it
lapsedan open item that left by distance
redactedits words went with an erased chat; the row stays
erasedgone — only you do this